Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lassiter hated being a beat cop.

He hated it simply because of Trout more than ever. Someone in front of the press at a crime scene. The head detective, O’Hara, should be there, not the chief, the chief normally did press conferences outside the police department. 

"I am still reading the crime scene and interviewing suspects. Anything that has to be said cannot be said until the facts are clear."

The facts were clear, obviously home invasion gone wrong at a fashion model’s apartment set in a heavily forested portion outside the city.

"There is a rumor going around that Clair FlannelPillow had a bad falling with with her ex boyfriend who threatened her."

"No comment without an interview with the suspect."

Someone he was actively tuning out. Something that became a habit. Every time that he opened his mouth at a news conference the former head detective heard the words blah blah blah ego ego ego blah blah. His words were fueled by ego rather than authority and facts that are true to the case. Someone actively taking credit for the entire situation.

All these facts on hand meant being back on the streets in a different way such as responding to incidents where someone was having a bad mental health episode. The kind that made the average man weep watching a loved one being hauled off after being cuffed, talking back, and striking the officers. The most emotionally difficult moment that he had to be part of. Most of the time it was people who had schizophrenia and he felt immense pity for them. Their illness was speaking, not them. Having a dream while being awake as one colleague put it years ago.

Lassiter hated being a beat cop. Juliet was nowhere to be found working on another case that was far more interesting than the one he was stationed at. 

Psych had closed and Gus had been hired by a rival pharmaceutical company. And Shawn was nowhere to be found as if he had vanished into thin air over the last three years.

Gus had filed a missing persons according to a officer who asked Lassiter if the psychic had gone undercover to snoop out a criminal. Lassiter knew the how and the why about Shawn’s absence but he couldn’t talk about it without winding up in witness protection about what happened to the psychic. 

The sound of gun shots rang out in the air and the press and officers scattered. Lassiter was tugged out of his line of thought, grabbing hold on to Trout then taking him away. Rather heroic moment in which Lassiter felt like a cop again that made his family proud and himself proud. The gun shots are coming from the street peppering the air. Screams littering the air as cameras dropped and a stampede was born. Heading on toward the forest with his back to the chaos as police fire was returned.

The car was too far away that held significant risk of a police captain once mayor's consultant being killed on a scene. It was a bad image for the police department that he was actively still protecting even after the big demotion.

Rushing away from the crime scene directly into the forested area directly out of the line of fire that became fainter and smaller. Rushing deep until it were a distant specter then pausing once under that network of safety. Breathing in and out taking control of his well being gazing back and forth toward the acting captain.  

“Are you hurt, captain?” Lassiter asked.

“This case.. is ... bigger... than I thought.” Trout admitted. 

“Who would want to kill the captain of a police department that isn’t actively involved in big investigations?” Lassiter asked, befuddled. 

His mind was twiring with questions that made a mess out of everything standing in the center of a distressing hurricane. 

“The kind that wants to make a name for themselves on the news,” Trout was quite cross about the matter as he clenched his hands. “they blab their names, like the school shooters, giving a story about their background, giving them unwarranted fame, remembered in infamy!”

There was a significant blood stain on the side of the acting captain’s shoulder that gave the beat cop a moment of pause and scrutinized for any signs of other bullet wounds that were readily apparent. His harsh light blue eyes registered the damage then he scowled at the evidence before him.

“What is it, Officer Lassiter?”

Lassiter’s eyes were on the blood stain that was becoming bigger.

“You’re hurt, Captain.” Lassiter acknowledged.

Trout shrugged, dismissively, he was alive, and that was all which mattered.

“It is no big deal.” Trout replied.

“If we stay out here in the forest for too long then you’re going to start suffering blood loss and maybe lose an arm over it if we stay here overnight.” The beat cop stressed significantly over the issue as he stared on distantly toward the sea of house. 

He didn't know if the shooter was going to come into the forest and hunt them down. Lassiter was in a strange part of the outskirts of the city that he hadn’t been in before. Not knowing was the worst. He would have died of stress as a security detail if he went into that field due to always being on his guard. 

“We’re not going to stay here overnight.” Trout retorted.

“Depending if they are staking out the spot then we might just do that.” Lassiter answered.

“That would require a lot of manpower that they don’t have.” Trout’s rebuttal held weight in it. 

“We were caught by surprise by men hiding.” Lassiter retorted. “I have to hazard that there were five men shooting due to the vast bullet fire.”

“There weren't that many gun shots!” Trout was shaken by the rattling deduction made by the acting captain. 

The captain shot over a nasty glare in the direction of the captain.

“There was a hundred gun shots.” Lassiter recalled, gazing on toward the row of houses thinking back. Juliet might have gotten caught up in the bullets and nailed which became something to be thankful about. “Easily.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Harshly directed back at the beat cop. 

“I don’t know about you but I am pretty sure the bionic arm department is not up for you to lift a gun with ease and fire at criminals.” Lassiter was calm giving his opinion as he recollected the various people who wore prosthetic parts.

“The FDA just approved it awhile ago,” Trout scoffed back. 

“How do you know about that off hand?” Lassiter looked back toward the acting captain. 

“Have to be aware of prosthetics in case we get a cop who has one.” Trout answered. 

“Or a detective.” Lassiter added, helpfully. 

Trout simply laughed at the comment by the beat cop as if he were joking.

“A detective with a prosthetic?” Trout spoke in such an incredulous and skeptical tone. “Now you’re talking Almost Human.”

He thought about Karl Urband portraying John Gimme reaper from Doom 2005 which made the pain in the man's leg now sense in the show. Man's damn leg was trying to degenerate.

“I can’t talk to..."

He looked again then back.

"I am not having this conversation with you.” This was something like what Shawn would say when dropping bits of popular culture except, this was way too modern for his taste. 

Twigs were cracking from close by drawing the attention of the beat cop who lifted his gun up and aimed at the oncoming figure. The man close by lifted his hands up, his eyebrows popping up, hazel eyes squinting, stepping back, his mouth slightly falling. 

“Woah, woah, there, Lassie!” was the familiar response. 

Lassiter’s mouth tipped down in recognition alongside a brief expression of shock that became cooled down by rigid and tense demeanor.

“Spencer?” Lassiter growled, bothered. 

“Cool your horses, it’s just moi!” Starting to laugh it off, shaking his head facing the combined glares of Trout and the weary beat cop. “The head psychic of the Santa Barbara Police Department. The go to diviner for the impossible cases for the land of the living that need to be solved fast before a terrible life altering arrest is made?”

“The head headache of my existence,” was Trout’s snarl. “I said you are banned from any investigations being held by the department!”

Shawn’s finger lifted then pressed against the side of his temple, and Lassiter knew that the fake psychic was coming up with a good comeback.

“The spirits!...”

“Are a piece of your imagination!’

“They...” Shawn’s eyes were closed tightly. 

“You and Lassiter set this up!” Trout accused, stepping back, gazing back and forth. 

“Tuning into the psychic network.” Shawn waved his hand. “Answer the question, detective.”

“Officer Lassiter.”

“Who’s the one lying now?” Shawn asked. 

“Being a detective and a police officer means having the department’s back.”

“Doesn’t mean still doing some investigating covering Jules’s leads.”

“Officer Lassiter.” Trout was clasping his arm glaring back at him, heavily angry. 

Shawn’s hazel eyes rested on the acting chief then back. 

Trout looked like he wanted to fire the beat cop over this entire event.

Just one excuse, and Lassiter could take any offer up by the numerous cities that had tried to poach him over the years.

 “That question.” Shawn was very irked.

“If I set this up, theoretically, captain, theoretically.” The former head detective’s patience was waning and exasperated at the accusation that irked him more than Shawn’s shocking appearance. “I would have done this a lot better than involving a shoot out.”

The acting chief visibly relaxed but still there was some tension in the air. 

“How would you have dealt with it?” Trout asked, humoring the beat cop. 

“It would involve ex-felon bikers who escort abused children to court and you would be scared because they look intimidating while cornering you for five minutes after a press conference..” The question was enough to kill the mood in the air as the beat cop looked dead serious. 

“They’re asking... confused... sad... alarmed, they’re distraught, and interested in a single profound question.” Shawn leaned against the tree then lifted his gaze up, his finger still placed against his temple. “Even the one that hasn’t even started?”

Trout stared at the pseudo psychic for a single moment. 

“The better question is why are you hanging out in the forest, Mr Spencer.” Trout changed the subject. 

Lassiter looked over in the direction of the pseudo psychic studying him for a moment, putting him on the spot. 

“Don’t strike me as an outdoorsy guy.” Lassiter agreed.

“Had to leave civilization and think things over in the whole chaos that is rampaging in my life,” Now, that sounded terribly honest. “You know the chaos that I am talking about, dear old lassie.”

Trout gazed over in the direction of the former head detective who’s cold blue eyes rested right on him. 

“We haven’t spoken since..” Lassiter began to recall looking back at the last exact time that they had spoken. “Not for a long time, Spencer.”

“Hmmm....”  Trout hummed. 

"He has been missing for three years chief,” the acting chief stared at him, blankly. “He’s got a missing persons file.” Oblivious. “do you think after suffocating him out of the police department that we would be talking leading up to his disappearance?"

Trout looked at Lassiter for a moment, cautiously

“Wouldn’t put it past you to have.” Trout was weary, too weary.

“Why is it that, detective?” Shawn asked. “Who’s fault is that?”

Lassiter’s eyes gazed toward Trout.

“No. No. No, look at me.” There was some genuine fed up tone in his voice that caused Lassiter to gaze at him. 

“I am.” Lassiter said.

 “Maybe because you made me reveal my psychic ability and left me hanging after being made not to use it after years?” Something honest that sounded awful coming out of his mouth.

“Spencer, stop it before..”

“No, no, continue.” Trout requested. 

 “After getting a taste of helping people out?”

Trout was now quite invested into the conversation. 

“No calls?”

“You’re banned from cooperating with the police department on cases, Spencer.”

“Having to close and leave town because the one job I could do isn’t for me anymore and nothing else suits me in this city..” Bitterly.

Lassiter stared at the younger man who wore broken heart and anger so readily, he saw something he didn’t see from the psychic at all lately, simple, pure, radiating hate. A man who normally didn’t hate, didn’t hold grudges long, he had an axe to grind. Wherever he was from and Lassiter deserved the verbal lashing.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” Lassiter found his voice. “About not listening to you nine years ago.”

Shawn’s head bobbed up frowning in confusion, 

“Nine years ago?”

“It has been exactly nine years to the day since you waltzed into the department for that check.”

“You got this all wrong, Lassie!” Shawn protested. “It's been three years.”

“Stop exaggerating, Spencer, it’s been nine.”

Shawn's attention strayed over toward the entrance of the forest then back toward the duo. He applied his finger against the side of his temple.

"The spirits! They are weirdly insistent.... Aaaahhh!" He sunk down against the side of the tree, wincing notably. “a shooting is over!"

Lassiter and Trout gazed over in the direction of the tree line that had an excellent view of the backyard of the street. The very thing that two men could agree on was equally as confounding as the pseudo psychic. Someone who wasn't supposed to be standing right across from the former head detective.

A sight that brought him great pain just to see him again as his heart gently ached and his mind felt heavy in guilt. Shawn squinted at the former head detective reading his face then his eyes relaxed and his jaw felt so slightly in confusion. Question marks surrounding the head of the younger man who looked over toward Trout.

"The spirits are never wrong." Shawn insisted.

"That is an active scene, Spencer!" Lassiter barked.

Shawn turned on the direction of the former head detective wearing a cocky grin.

"All it takes is a minute to start putting the kettle on low and letting everyone live in low roasting terror.* Shawn replied.

"Does he often talk in cooking metaphors?" Trout asked.

The two men watched the psychic carry his way toward the crime scene.

"This is a new one even from him." Lassiter remarked.

"Officer Lassiter, is there something I should know about your consultant medical wise?"

"Nothing entirely springs to kind."

"Nothing?"

Lassiter was in the hot seat under the glare of the mayor's consultant acting as chief.

"He has been mildly poisoned at least once, shot at, and had his appendix burst." Lassiter recalled, tapping on his fingers at each mention of the incidents.

“... are you being serious that is all that’s medically happened to him.”

 "Never mind the times that he has been abducted by suspects, and incidents where he was drugged so O'Hara and I could not hear him when we searched for him and Guster!”

“Chances are that he has brain damage from all that.”

“If anything, chief...” Lassiter was the first to step forward, approaching the pseudo psychic quite hurriedly. “I won't be surprised if he got rough housed in our time apart and got some significant brain damage that needs to be treated!"

The beat cop followed after the pseudo psychic.

The chief tagged along clasping his arm cradling it there in the noisy forest.

 Every sound of a twig that cracked was enough for him to turn his attention away and gulp gazing aside quite bothered and nervous. It was enough that fear had him in its grasp after being part of a shooting. The sounds of birds chirping in the air. The forest looked nice and unassuming with green leaves hanging over their heads. 

They returned to the crime scene discovering more cop cars and a bigger media presence than before. O’Hara turned her attention away from her new partner facing the trio that reappeared. Her mouth fell open gaping at the familiar face that was dressed in the familiar plaid gazing around boredly. It’s like someone lifted her heart and her up at once in a sharp tinge of pain as all the neurons in her brain were sent flying seeing someone she engaged to long ago 

“Shawn!”

A word O’Hara blurted out suddenly seeing him again.

Shawn’s hazel eyes flickered over toward her squinting in her direction.

Shawn without Gus by his side looked awfully weird.

No, he looked weird.  Younger. A bit thinner. Exactly several years younger. What was equally unnerving was the stare aimed at her that went interrupted by a passing by civilian where he seemingly vanished into thin air, again.

Chapter Text

Gus saw the number meant for Charlene and her designated icon appear during work, a current woman that he settled to date, chasing him, two kids and a third on the way that was probably not his kid.

He didn’t mind, the kids needed a dad and he needed someone to care about since the person he cared for was absent. Filling that gigantic chaotic hurricane void in his life that had walked away with an easy going grin and a jog rushing past him. No name for Charlene just her number.

His sister, older brother, and family didn’t often call him unless it were getting around the holidays. It was the time of June and June wasn’t a much eventful month regarding the pharmaceutical salesman who had been poached by a rival company. Pacific Nutraceutical Products. Three weeks of vacation a year to rest and cool down from burn out, a fully stocked kitchen, a bunch of ladies that he tried chasing but stumbled in his flirting and courting execution ending up getting pepper sprayed as his craft improved marginally. The luxurious company car made a nice replacement for the blueberry. 

He felt old, really old. Even when he looked young and sounded young there was something that had taken the youthful out of his very fiber like something had been taken out so suddenly without any direct intent of putting it back and leaving behind maturity rather than immaturity. Methodical and elegant in the surgeon’s hands of pain that was deeply emotional. He wasn’t the same after the other half of him had got a girlfriend and grew up a lot to the point that he just vanished, shortly after proposing to O’Hara, gleefully, like he was on a speed run mission to vanish the happiest man on the face of the earth.

Everything reminded him of Shawn down to the snacks, the pineapple flavors that co-workers had around him, even the occasional charismatic person who came in from time to time drawing in attention and being full of character that was welcomed as part of a workplace comedy. Gus felt like the odd one out as everyone flocked to the extremely interesting individual. His life had stopped being interesting a long time ago.

A heavy sigh was withdrawn even when guys hadn’t done hefty work.

Some days it was hard to avoid the stocked kitchen because of his belly and then he ripped into it.

It just didn’t feel right raiding the kitchen without Shawn or invading a crime scene much to Lassiter’s or Trout’s annoyance. Everything felt wrong even when it was an old normal that was vaguely familiar with the exception of improvements in his life. 

“Hey Guster!”

Gus looked toward the sound of his co-workers who had beckoned him over. 

“Someone tried to reel in the trout!” 

Gus rolled his eyes in the middle of making himself a snack that consisted of icecream, blueberries, strawberries, and crushed peanuts. Aggressively healthy.

“He’s not some big mafia guy, you’re feeding the ego, Rark.” Gus snapped. “stop it.”

“Like you have faced the mafia.” Rark replied. “Mr Seriousness!”

“Once or twice or several times.” Gus muttered, adding a single piece of pine apple to the meal. “The memories like slush.”

“Hey, Gussssstaaaaarrrr!” Oreono called from afar. “There's a guy asking about you!”

Another private detective who never called back regarding searching for Shawn and finally admitted it was impossible.

“And I’m the king of the world.” Gus remarked. 

“Never mind, he just left!” Oreono replied.

The scene was secured not that shortly after the almost magical reappearance of one Shawn Spencer.

O'Hara's world twirled after being shaken seeing him reappear in the flesh.

Whole, fresh, glowing with life, and the hair that had hair gel keeping it up. Like some religious artifact that had been restored to its glory and brought to existence for a moment before she blinked In the chaos that had unfolded, she lost track of him.

"Carlton, where did Shawn go?" O’Hara asked. 

"Trout called a taxi and sent him away." Lassiter reported.

"It's been three years and he doesn't bother talking to his girlfriend in the middle of chaos?"

"Spencer said he needed some time for himself before coming back." Lassiter reminded. “Right after the taxi was called in.”

What also made it stranger was how he referred to a taxi driver as an uber.

"Did he say when?" O’Hara asked.

"Didn't say." Lassiter confessed.

"Then he is at the office hanging out waiting for a client to show up after breaking in and entering."

"Spencer would never do that!"

"I haven't seen Shawn in years, Carlton." Was the exasperated yet pained reminder how the realm of chaos was putting her through a concerning nightmare. "Everything he has done is so unlike him..."

He could end it if he simply told her the truth and left her more distraught. He was a man of integrity. And still could not tell the truth as if a ghostly cold chilly hand was resting there. A semi transparent grayed one that only he could see and she could not.

Lassiter couldn't hurt someone that good. He couldn’t bring himself to it.

"He would call Guster, drag him back over there then start investigating your cases that faker has been taking credit for and find out which interviewed suspect is the one who set the shooting up."

"Trout would never let him help." O'hara said.

Lassiter's eyes rested on the younger man for a moment mulling it over.

"He might need to ask for his help since.." Lassiter started but let her finish.

"Shell casings, no one saw anything, and a crowd of otherwise traumatized wounded press and residents of the neighborhood."

"They got phones." 

"Yes, one of them did call it in one the gunfire was over."

O'hara frowned at the comment as the pseudo psychic’s words crossed the beat cop's mind. About the incident being recorded by someone good, specifically how a lot of people recorded it. If that happened, O'hara's job would be immensely easier.

"I am not talking about that, O’Hara." Lassiter replied.

O'hara's eyebrows knit together for a moment reflecting over the issue 

 "Don't the residents count as new reporters?" Lassiter asked.

"Who would record the generic ranting of an egotistical mayoral consultant?" O'Hara asked. "He is not a joke on Twitter or YouTube to mock like some people.."

Kids could be cruel when it came to the performance that Shawn delivered.

Lassiter turned his attention in the direction of Trout heaving a sigh. 

The bane of his existence. Still standing. Still acting as the road block to personally investigate cases that were really pressing and urgent to solve with eagle eyes. He had a motive to wanting him gone but the man hadn't voiced having received anything threatening.. quite yet. Unnerving for someone who had a very punch worthy face that brought thousands of death threats.

And the phone numbers that Lassiter had of felons who were out were not at all good since they barely got along together to work together (that he knew from experience) when it came to taking down someone they disliked equally or for police cooperation during a case acting as the backbone of his career since Shawn entered the picture. Not that he was cut out for doing such an act, scaring straight the mayor's consultant. 

The acting chief beckoned the officer over under the cloak of darkness pierced by the lighting of the ambulance. The beat cop complied with the request.

"Drive me back to my place."

"Sir—"

"You live nearby."

"I haven't given my statement."

"That's unnecessary, it will be a lot like mine. Already given with facts."

"Which ones? The ones where you take credit for your safety?"

Trout gazed over to the beat cop who was irked.

"Uh the actual truth. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. And we never had this conversation."

"Sir, being an officer means your ego is going to get hurt on big cases.” then Lassiter chose to add for equal measure. “We had this conversation."

Gus hadn’t answered the phone since he got off work. 

Gus rubbed his face looking toward the nice house that awaited him in a suburb, his house, paid for, not rent controlled, everything paid. 

He remembered how June once was chaotic and guns were aimed at his face on a weekly basis, perhaps almost every Monday and Wednesday when fate called for him to be on his toes. Those days were entertaining and made him feel alive toeing the line of fear and death. Activities crushed by a single hand that had vanished and left behind utterly nothing. Nothing. But a phone call that Gus had missed and tortured himself over for not picking up while flirting. Was the woman worth it in the end? No, terribly wasn’t. 

He wanted to smash a mirror so hard and break it in a thousand pieces. He should know what happened to Shawn and for that, for not knowing, for asking for help, he was inflicted with such pain that only could be rivaled by the greatest platonic friendships in cinematic history, there were surprisingly few that fit the category, but Starsky and Hutch came to mind. Spock and Kirk didn't count, they were a old married couple. But McCoy’s friendship with the two men definitely qualified in the platonic nature with everything that he had done.

He opened the door then rushed under the cover of night toward the house, unlocked the door, then opened it, taking the phone out then resting it on the counter, the phone still ringing away being ignored. Gus swiped the screen then flickered on the hallway light. 

The gold lighting poured through the long and wide corridor that was empty. Stairs that lead up to the second floor, a scenery that once Gus and Shawn used to venture through when cases involved the suburbs for one reason or another becoming terribly acquainted to. He played old memories through the scenery thinking back, back then, thinking of himself as a kid, he perfectly understood now why older people called younger adults kids. Young, full of innocence, and a spark of life. 

And now, quite remarkably, he lived in that environment albeit without a family to call his own. Gus could only exhale a terribly depressed sigh at the hallway that held no exciting spark of love. 

Being one Burton Guster was seemingly and slowly dawning on him that it was a life meant of misery after his friend met his untimely end as in freedom or life due to the action adventure lifestyle that he once welded as a private fake psychic detective.

He went to the fridge then opened the freezer and withdrew a frozen dinner. A fairly consistent routine that he got used to after avoiding the fully stocked kitchen. His phone still was ringing. 

He swiped the screen, again, dismissing the call, declining it. 

His hopes of Shawn showing up had shrunk considerably. 

There was a knock at the door.

Gus turned away then walked down the hallway as his dinner cooked in the microwave thawing out getting warmer. 

He opened the door wearing a scowl then his face fell in shock with one hand on the door handle. 

“No.”

Gus closed the door but was stopped by Shawn. 

“You haven’t heard me.”

“Shawn, you left! End of story!”

Shawn pried the door a bit open than before, god, was he that strong? 

“But Guuusss.”

“Not hearing it!”

“I think someone was trying to kill Lassie early this evening!”

“Not interested!"

"But I am!"

“Let me close the damn door!”

“I can easily break the door and cost you a lot!”

“You cannot break the door!”

“People said Starfleet Academy was never going to get made and it still did! Emotionally taxing to exist!”

“You are out of your damn mind!”

“Gus, I have always been the most eccentric guy in Santa Barbara!”

“You have been gone for three years! I don't know where your hands have been!" His voice carried grief, anger, and resentment. "I even reported you missing!"

"Dude!" Shawn exclaimed. "Let me talk about it!"

"I closed psych five months after you vanished once you kept being missing" Airing out his grievances. "You scared the living shit out of me!”

A shout of pain in came over the other side of the door.

"What the hell, Gus! Where is this emotional pain coming from?"

"Being missing and never calling!"

"This agonizing regret?"

"No, no, no way,  you are not doing the act to me!"

"Gus, why weren't you there when I went missing?"

A question that stung and hurt like a very fresh flesh wound from a weapon that was burning and hot with steam coming off it.

"I was occupied!"

"Like Venezuela!"

"That is a sovereign nation! Like Cuba and Greenland and Mexico!"

Shawn stopped struggling against the door as if delivered some unsettling news that pertained to him staggering back with his jaw slack gazing at the door that remained shut. He staggered back facing the window, panting. Swallowing his breath.

The hallway lights turned off then he turned away thinking it over then furrowed his eyebrows for a moment then they fell. He took his z fold out then sorted through until finding the internet and got into Gus’s WiFi with the WiFi password. Which was relatively easy since it was the same password as it was before.

He looked up SCP foundation. Still very fictional. Shawn breathed a sigh of relief at the news then lowered the phone down to his side gently closing the phone then faced the street.

His fear melting away along with the anxiety and emotional whiplash of flickers of Gus's actions. He set about returning to the crime scene walking down the street holding his phone up using Google maps to return to the scene of the crime. It was more jarring than his chaos back on the other side of the forest.

Lassiter returned home that night, Marlowe was still in a coma, the house was otherwise empty, devoid of all the life that had given him something worthy coming home to, and a world outside of the room that made little sense of joy and humor and lightness. A world that is otherwise quite lifeless lacking all the warmth.

 It made the days where Spencer showed up every day seem all that appealing and brighter even as he got to know the fake psychic whose act was like an artist crafting his craft albeit clumsy and his food was the irritation of a certain head detective who was floundering in his emotional despair without her.  Six months since the shooting. Six months since his world was shaken greatly. Scared about her then the baby when the doctor was the first inform. He knew her very well, risking the child's health, just to love it, hold it, care for it.

A part of him was scared of losing a well rounded childhood with the child and losing a window of opportunity of having another. There was chances that Marlowe could wake up. Her recovery was slow as a snail according to the doctor. A part of Lassiter wished he insisted the pregnancy be terminated so he have both at a later date. A wife and a child.

He looked at the couch for a moment, summoning a specter leaning against the couch cupping the side of his face. A muscular beefcake with hazel ghostly eyes resting right on him.

“You owe dad an explanation. He is going to believe what that kid has to say..”

“You are not a kid, Spencer “

“He looks young."

"No, it is not the same thing."

"I heard it both ways!"

"No, you didn't." Lassiter replied. "I did."

The familiar figure vanished with a cruel smile.

Lassiter picked up the remote then put on a cop show and sat down burying his feelings tightly down on there with no one to turn to. He didn't have Marlowe to cry into her arms. It is like his life unwinded to something similar leading to Shawn's return.

Chapter Text

It had been a full day since the incident had occurred and Shawn hadn't shown up since reappearing magically after the strongly traumatic incident that involved her ex-partner. Her car was parked along the sidewalk gazing on toward the heavily forested area that was blocked off by yellow tape that was as familiar as the moon was to the dark side of the planet. She waited and waited and waited focusing her attention on the crime scene. 

She sat upright as a figure emerged then paused, sighing, then hung his head, having a long moment of pause that was decorated in heartache and stress and annoyance in everything that was obvious knowing Shawn Spencer. When he lied, he acted serious, not absurd, or immature.

He still looked unnaturally young since the last time that she had seen him. He looked like a thirty-one year old rather than the man who was in his late thirties approaching the big forty. It's as if time itself had rewinded and been kind upon him letting him be young again, taking pills, drugs, whatever, that helped him turn the clock back. 

O'Hara unbuckled from the car then opened the door, closing the door beside her, rushing toward the figure, her hands clenched into fists with all the anger that had resurfaced since the day that he just vanished out of her life. 

She rushed after Shawn then locked her arms on to his shoulders giving the best enormous hug.

Shawn stumbled back caught off guard.

"Jules, woah there!" The familiar laugh that she knew all those years ago holding some humor and the warmth that she had nearly forgotten, a laugh that sparked old memories to resurface, feeling him rest his hands on the side of her figure, reminding her of times where they kissed that had mellowed out during the period leading up to his sudden disappearance. "easy girl.."

"I missed you."

Shawn stepped back taking her hands looking at her, then a flash of pain, his eyes squeezing shut. His eyes flashed open, out of breath, surprised,  then saw the family heirloom on her finger.

"Oh..." Shawn replied

"Oh...." O'Hara withdrew out of the hug, frowning, furrowing her eyebrows, tilting her head. "what?"

"Jules.." Shawn was shaking his head. "I..." grimacing before continuing. "I ... I am not that guy who gave you that engagement ring."

She stepped back looking up and down in a moment of shock facing the pseudo psychic.

"You are Shawn Spencer."

"Agonizingly to my distress, I am."

"You are the guy who proposed to me."

He squeezed his eyes shut then exhaled.

"Jules, I would really love to ask that guy what the hell he was thinking starting a relationship with you knowing you can't live with lies in a relationship."

"We got over that tough patch after some time apart." O'hara recalled. "A couple weeks."

"You obviously know I am a psychic pretending to be a fake one." Shawn said. 

"Shawn...." She looked at him so, concerned and worried.

Shawn looked at her blankly for a very long time until he started processing that, in fact, she was more familiar to him not being a psychic. 

These select few facts were horrendous. Which made this hour even harder when it came to talking to her. Someone that he well liked as a close friend and colleague in the Santa Barbara Police Department. Someone that was the bane of the existence of criminals and lies. Someone perched cross from the head detective's desk. He clasped his hands together then pressed his fingers against his lips taking in a inhale.

"Most definitely not a fake." He clasped his hands together in a prayer like fashion. "Bad news that I have live with my entire miserable life," he turned toward the forest summoning a smile then facing the detective. "makes it difficult to cultivate many friendships."

Her blue eyes flipped open in a moment of shock and disbelief registering the change in her significant other once she stepped back withdrawn the gun from her person aiming at the younger man.

"If you are not Shawn then who the hell are you?" O'Hara replied. 

"Not a clone." Was the answer.

"Long lost younger brother." O'Hara guessed. 

Shawn threw his head back with a distinctive hollow but sharp laugh.

"If he went to this island with rich folk that did crimes and misdemeanors and cloned themselves to pay for the price of their crimes then this would be even more messy."

"W-w-what?" O'Hara asked, squinting. 

Shawn held his hands up looking so innocent with his head lowered facing the detective. 

"Infinity pool." Shawn began to reference. "Alexandra Skarsgard. Mia Goth." Lifting his eyebrows trying to jog a memory. "Cleopatra Coleman?" Leaning to his side the further that he went about the movie. "Set on Lil Tolq.... It's on Hulu."

"A hula hoop?"

"The app?"

"The app."

Shawn nodded so slowly in response to the remark. 

"The app." Shawn repeated to her misfortune.

She slightly lowered the gun facing him for a long tense moment.

"It's closing this year?" All he got was blanks then slightly lowering the gun at the clarification that made so much sense.  "Folding into Disney+ with Timon and Pumbaa and DuckTales and Darkwing Duck?"

A harsh glare was on him.

"And National Geographic, Pixar, Star Wars. We get a black superhero who's powers aren't electricity. Gus is over the moon about that hero," waving his hands from side to side reflecting over it. "flaws and all."

The blanks and gun aimed right at him over the jarring dialogue. 

"Next you are going to say McDonald's is going to take over the world and become something like weyland-yutani with Disney."

"McDonalds-Disney?" Shawn replied, incredulously .

A heavy pause rested between them in the air between them in which neither knew what to say. 

O'Hara lowered the gun slowly in the minutes that ticked by and put it back in its holster.

It was Shawn but it wasn't her Shawn in the slightest that burned and hardened her heart. She stare at the younger man studying him for all that he was worth seeing the good old days shining through. He wasn't frustrated, annoyed, or still hung over  Trout.

Trout's mere existence was a hindrance to the one that she called home. The one that made her feel whole and complete. She watched him lower his hands proceeding to approach her. Slowly. Stepping through twigs and crunching gras beneath his shoes as his hazel familiar eyes rested on her.

"Jules, fill me in about why Lassie is a beat cop."

"Why should I tell a psychic?"

"The spirits give me flashes with no context."

"And Gus?"

"And sometimes they don't give me it. Sometimes it is very emotional and disorienting flashes."

"So he gave you grief about..."

"The other me leaving him so suddenly."

"Where have you been all day?"

"Trying to fix things," he turned back in the direction of the forest. "it's a literal dumpster fire."

Like chaos, literal chaos. Upsetting chaos.

He turned his attention back toward her.

So O'Hara proceeded to fill him in on everything that she knew and went through leading up to a old normal being shattered and destroyed. 

Chapter Text

Gus awoke that morning, refreshed. 

The memories of last night's dream was too fantastic, incredible, and detailed, a dream of a familiar face reappearing and struggling to get in but had to slam the door on him. 

a representation of a life that he wanted to go back to but couldn't since he was gone and Shawn was still very missing with very little luck of living in this world. Shawn didn't strike him to come back and reconnect then one day vanish off the face of the earth. And yet a part of him believed with his heart that Shawn was still out there. He had to be held somewhere in a basement or attic with a heavy metal bracelet of some sort fashioned around his leg embedding inside becoming part of it and had a heavy weight and a heavily scarred ankle from attempting to escape numerous times. Gus had vivid nightmares about that situation from time to time. 

He remembered screaming out his name a couple times waking up from the horrible God awful dream that haunted his mind for the longest time. 

Gus flipped over and screamed into the pillow of all the emotional turmoil then lifted his head up, recomposing himself, there was the ding, from the nearby phone He picked the phone up, unlocked, swiped, then checked, pressing his chin on the nice pillow gazing down upon it and relaxed there feeling whole. She made him feel young and nice and happy at the text message that she sent him. 

Thinking of you, baby. 

Shawn wouldn't like her in the slightest and investigate so hard that she would be driven away for what he dug up on her. 

Gus proceeded to text back; thinking of you too, cookie bear.  <3

No one was good enough for Gus with the reasoning that the pseudo psychic had when being a through determinator of who made a excellent partner for Gus, they had to be flawless, they had to match Gus's energy, they had to love him, not for any social related thing, not for a child to have a dad, just to want him and all that was packed with him, including psych. Their business that now had faded in the side since Shawn's disappearance. 

What was the point of doing investigations without the one who dragged his ass into it?

Shawn made it fun and entertaining. 

Gus missed him as he smiled turning the phone off with a click. 

"Mr Guster, your mother is at the hospital."

Gus's head whirred at the announcement that was handed out by one of his colleagues in the middle of lunch. 

Gus was speeding out of the lunch room speeding fast as his legs could carry him quite calmly as his mind was racing in the chaos that raged through his mind and uncertainty and fear. He swung the door open speeding out of the building rushing in the general direction of the car that he had parked there only a few hours ago. What made him come to a sudden pause was the fact that Shawn was on the the engine hood relaxing there with his hands locked behind his head. 

What also took Gus back was the fact that Shawn looked notably younger, younger, and younger. The familiar beefcake that he became accustomed to had seemingly deteriorated to a version of himself that was in the process of getting used to being well fed. He stared at the jarring image then his eyes flashed open as a whole flood of feelings rushed through him standing still in immense shock that rippled through him that took him way back. He stared slack jawed at the shocking sight that took his breath away. 

The familiar figure withdrew his dark shades then leaned forward.  You know how a kitten is in the transition of maturing, having the face of a kitten on a cat's body, cute, adorable, the jarring horror sight. He wore that smile that Gus hadn't seen in years that had it's sharp edges to it. 

"Who in the name of black Jesus are you?"

That was the first time that Gus had sworn in front of someone who looked Shawn but understandably, was not.

"Me."

The only thing restraining him from swearing full blown was Jesus Christ, the kindest, loving, forgiving, soul that had walked the earth. Swearing in his name felt understandably better and less drastic compared to being that vulgar.

"Shawn put you up to this, didn't he," pointing back at the younger man in a moment of disbelief that was profound and both equally skeptical. "Shawn, come out, I know you're around here!"

Gus looked around the trees searching for the fake psychic and the hedges. 

" Come out! This is not funny!" he looked around, scowling, quite unhappy, looking around, looking back and forth. "Shawn!"

"You're making this really funny in a terribly sad way, Gus." Shawn replied. 

"Stop pretending to be him!" Gus shot back then looked off. "Shawn!" He looked around calling out the name of the guy that he knew. "Shawn!"

The younger version of his best friend hung his head letting out a sigh then walked around the car. 

"You ever seen the show Timeless?" Then he lifted his eyebrows trying to jog a memory to the best of his attempt. "Abigail Spencer, Matt Lantar, and Rufus Carlin?"

"A world without time is you being on that car!" Gus shot back. 

"Okay," Shawn turned around heading back to the side of the car. "back on the car!"

If Gus's eyes could widen even further than they would be so cartoony and he would be a duck who's playing with physics in the realm of animation when it came to his reaction, preferably daffy, he was daffy, and Shawn was bugs, and this man was both the road runner and bugs bunny when it came to the chaos that was being raged in front of him so brazenly. 

"No!" Gus barked, loudly. "You are not getting back on that stupid car!" Gus man handled him slamming him against the car very aggressive. "That's a company car!  I will not have that car dented! Do you know how much that car COSTS?"

the man who wore Shawn's face threw his head back in a fit of laughter. 

"At least that hasn't changed," Shawn cackled, looking at him like he were an old friend that he hadn't seen in years, full of fondness and warmth. "but really exaggerated and hostile."

Gus turned his head aside. 

"What does this 'timeless' thing matter, for?"

"Doesn't matter," Shawn held his hands up. "I realized my error, that is time travel, and this is different, it's more similar to Parallel 2024 featuring Aldis Hodge and Danielle Deadwyler. Good movie and powerful story."

"If you don't walk away from this car and stop harassing me then I am going to be calling the police." was the warning that was issued. 

Gus stepped back letting of the younger man who was still very amused and laughing at him. 

"Dad's going to love this story when I tell him in the next trip," Shawn remarked, watching him stray away. 

Gus shook his head clenching his hands from the figure who was part of an awful prank. 

"I am pretty sure the Shawn Spencer of this universe is very dead and someone is trying to kill Detective Lassiter,"

Gus paused in his tracks at the words that didn't have any business being put together in a string of sentences and yet, someone, thinking that, like a little tiny part, when he was losing hope in ever getting closure when it came to Shawn's disappearance. A fact that was still haunting his heart of not being there and not knowing what happened to him... someone wanting to find out taking him along for the ride for the appeals. 

"Officer Lassiter." Gus replied.

"There's a connection." Shawn replied.

"There is not." Gus retorted.

"There is and you're totally oblivious to it in your world of guilt, you went through the files but haven't really looked at his LAST CASE." A harsh comment that really shook the salesman. "Because of your stupid ugly little guilt! Damn, Gus, you let your little heart get hosed down by what? Not being there?"

Shawn tapped on the center of his hand for emphasis.

"Seriously, Gus, why not use that guilt to do better things like give leads and tell the truth? I wouldn't have minded if my disappearance was used to solve another case. What kind of detective are you? The kind who didn't hand over evidence? Or was I wrong all those years ago to drag you along and play detective?"

Very harsh words that were crossing a line.

"Did I not do enough to make you relax and investigate? Having someone have your back like Jules? Did I?" Angry voice that betrayed the one that had haunted him the first few weeks, telling him to relax, cool down, and keep his head low. "Psych act or no psych act?"

Anger still brewing in his voice.

"Training you, like dad during our childhood, only reinforcing that training and adding to it, making it better, so if anything happened to me then you could follow my lead and finish the case!"

Gus gripped the door for a moment lowering his head at the words that stung. Well, a harsh and brutal dressing down. 

"Full stop,  I know Lassie is a beat cop," the figure from across continued to ramble. "but he still a detective where I am from and if I say it then I will get mixed up and everyone will be looking at me so weird and then I will get admitted to a mental health hospital!"

Shawn mixing up things was a common experience throwing in that he heard things both ways.

"Neither of us need that."

Gus slowly turned in the direction of the familiar stranger as he redetermined his view of the younger man who was leaned forward against the car facing him looking serious, which was wrong on his face, normally the calm and cool and immature guy.

"Do we?" Lifting his eyebrows for a moment staring back at the pharmaceutical salesman who's brown eyes rested on him and squinted at the wrongness all about the younger man. This was a grave issue. "Good, we understand each sure."

Gus looked back and forth before facing him then began to approach the younger man in the silence that was punctuated by the sound of birds chirping and cars parking by 

"Who hired you?"

Shawn had a double take, frowning, squinting, then relaxed, softened, seeing a victim's close friend tagging along, wanting answers.

"You're out of your damn mind, Gus, and for that," his voice became softened as he clasped his hands together and became slightly less vicious. "will let that pass," then grew a a big smile. "I have a lead."

"Oh, and who might that be?" Gus asked, annoyed.

"Your detective Lassiter," Shawn replied,

"He's not a detective!" Gus then added. "And he is not mine."

"Beat cops can be detectives when doing follow ups."

"They absolutely do not!"

Shawn opened the door then leaned against the side of the car wearing a smug look.

"How do you think dad climbed up the ranks and became a detective?" Wearing that familiar cocky smile. "He's thorough."

Gus opened the driver side door then got in.

"He's an officer, 'Shawn'," without using his fingers that made the younger man smile and delighted despite the chaos that was brewing around him in a nightmare scenario. "I don't know how your private investigative style works, but here, we don't pretend to be a missing guy who's potentially deceased!"

Shawn opened the door and crept in a fit of amusement then laughed.

"I will let that pass because this is a very concerning and funny roller coaster more than you can ever imagine." Shawn replied, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

Lassiter awoke that morning that was the same kind of morning. 

Showering, cold sorrow, shaving, drying off, dressing up, eating breakfast in the lonely white apartment, then visiting the hospital. Returning to his wife's side and her pregnant belly that was apparent through the blanket. He took her small hand then gave it a tight squeeze over the sound of beeps. His calm and loving blue eyes rested on her figure feeling a enormous tingle of heartache. 

He hoped during his days of duty not he streets that he would stumble across the shooter and make them pay,  dearly, but the only way that he knew hour, escalate the situation, and shoot him in places that would make him scream in agony. He wanted the party responsible to suffer for five minutes before ambulance arrived experiencing the hell that he lived through in a fit of rage. His hair was nicely graying in a wonderful, attractive, admirable, how a former head detective was surviving on the streets again facing the likes of the mentally ill and the very same criminal scumbags who deserved no pity unlike the mentally ill. 

Lassiter started to open his mouth then closed it not knowing what to say, where to start, lowering his head, his heart full of ache that tugged him down and threatened to tear him apart as the guilt rested on his mind. The beeps contrasted against the air, nice, sweet, beautiful, and indicating life. 

"There was another shooting."

Lassiter found his voice. 

"You won't believe it."

Lassiter leaned back. 

"I saw Spencer."

A pause then a laugh. 

"It's mind boggling, I don't understand, he's like this weasel that gets caught and then it shows up again like a bad penny, like a Saturday morning character, like you know how Negaduck kept reappearing after being killed?"

He rubbed his face then sighed.

"I mean, once he was turned into a statue," then another pause in the beeps that filled the air. "unless, they're all doubles," the former head detective proceeded to laugh. "And it's routine to keep accidentally killing him."

Lassiter had a good laugh at the remark that was dark but humorous. 

"Marlowe, I..." Lassiter looked over toward her for a moment. "For the first time, Spencer is back, but, my life hasn't gotten started to get better, and for all I am concerned, it's not going to get better, we're going to have a baby that doesn't have good odds medically! And you're not going to wake up! They say you're in a vegetative state!"

the beeps filled the air once more as he hung his head then sighed. 

"I know, I know, don't give up on you like you did on me with your brother and being behind bars..." he looked over toward the figure that was still as beautiful and silent as the first time that he laid eyes on her. "waiting for you to come out though..."

He rubbed his face in the field of beeps.

"I am ..." 

Lassiter was deeply distraught that wasn't quite shown.

"Feel like..."

He wiped a single tear off his cheek.

"I am at hell's gates wanting to rip open the bars and run right in."

His shoulders lowered.

"Being a hero for the citizens of Santa Barbara, and to see, hear, your lovely little voice, I know you feel you belong there but you don't and when I do die, see you there, I am breaking you out of that prison and taking you to heaven. Hell at our heels, running in the dark, hearing demons behind us, holding your hand, heading for the light,  that has a triumphant heavenly ending."

The words were positive and full of the law on his side when it came to the issue. The law was the law, when you love someone that much, you go where they go, and if you feel they don't deserve to be there, you take them out or you stay there, and Marlowe didn't deserve to stay there, not after all that she had done he;ping her brother, she was the one who brought life into his world like a flame in the dark.

"I know there's a very small chance you'll wake up and you become a widow."

Lassiter cleared his throat.

"it's impossible, they say, but they never met a woman like you." He looked upon her in the long silence that hung in the air.  "They say it's so rare that it's statistically impossible..."

He studied her resting figure for a long moment.

"And I find that I miss you," Lassiter remarked, softly. "and I love you," his voice cracking apart becoming higher pitch. "and I wish you were here to see Spencer back in the flesh."

He clasped his hands together in a long moment lowering his head and let out a shaky sigh lowering his head. 

"I miss you, Marlowe.... so... so... so much."

For the first time in close to three years, Gus returned to the office alongside the young man bearing a stroking resemblance to his childhood best friend. Gus flicked on the lights with single switch and it all came flooding back.

He stood there remembering the last time that he had seen the fake psychic.

"If we don't get a client by tomorrow—"

"We'll get one, Gus!"

"A paying one!"

"I'll find one on the double "

"Someone who can pay for that trip to Vegas and expensive wedding venue." Gus pointed back at the grinning fake psychic. "I know what you are thinking in that little noggin of yours about it and I ain't paying."

"I got money in the bank to cover for your wedding." Shawn reassured.

"No, I am covering that."  Gus replied. 

"Gus, you are my best friend!" Shawn insisted, quite distressed. "You've done enough! Paid my taxes, the office bills. my health insurance, and bought snacks for me! I think you deserve a great big reward..."

"Well, I'll pay for the glass you will step on but that is it!" Gus replied. 

"I would really love to repay you for..." Shawn was so happy to face him, nice and soft, admiring his best friend, shaking his hands. "Everything, really." Folding his arms. "Sticking around as is."

Gus squinted back at the fake psychic taken back. 

"Where is this coming from?" Gus asked. 

"Through serial killers.. you are like my lucky charm whenever I get a gun at my face."

"We're both lucky charms, Shawn!"

"Gus, if I could relive my entire life.." Animated shaking his head then grinning. "I couldn't pick a best man by my side." Lifting his head  up as Gus's eyebrows started to raise as did his head. "If I had to go through a war zone then I would rather go through it with you. If something truly awful was happening, during a case, with us at the helm, navigating a twisted and ugly case I would rather it be me than you because your life is the most monumental thing! Great but mighty! Even a far more magical bald head getting better with aaaageeee!"

Shawn was grinning radiant like the sun had been given a life force that was fun, innocent, and kind.

"This is my best man invite." Gus acknowledged.

Shawn was being surprisingly emotional.

"Yeah, it is." Shawn rested his hand on the side of his best friend's shoulder. 

'"I was born for this role." Gus opened the door, determined. "Next time I see you, " he held his hand up then wiggled his index finger pressing his fingers against the palm of his hand. "we better have a case!'

Gus walked out the office closing the door behind him.

The only thing that was not in the office was a beefcake but he should be. Yeah, a guy came back calling himself Shawn with a case and that was the most bitter and cruelest part of the entire ordeal.

Shawn should be there fresh after three years being married, being older, happy, and struggling to fill the normal stable paying client. Turning the big forty next year. Shawn deserved the world and he was taken from it.  He should have a kid by now growing faster than Gus could catch up with as as the perfect ideal American flawed family, not a nuclear one since Gus was a instrument of of it that kept it well maintained.

The psychic walked past him heading toward the office wearing that familiar youthful smile. Gus stood there recomposing himself in the tsunami of emotions. This is why he closed the office. Brought back memories someone who should be there and expected to be there. Harsh but painful.

Shawn took out the files one at a time then set them on to his desk and we just threw them flipping through them as if he knew which ones were old which ones were different. Just walked into the office spotting him there in such a familiar position with one foot stacked on the edge of the desk and leaning back in the chair sorting through the files as his eyes darted got it from side to side. Shawn happened to be a fast reader just like the stranger whose name happened to be Shawn as well.

"Eureka!" 

Shawn handed the file over then Gus read it.

"Just says Lassiter was the responding officer to shooting, domestic, no shooter found, bunch of cigs.  No DNA found."

Shawn was wearing that smile facing the pharmaceutical salesman in response to the remark.

"And that my friend is the connection." Shawn replied. 

Gus shot a glare in the direction of the psychic.

"You literally guessed." Gus pointed out. 

"He looks guilty looking at me." Shawn revealed, sliding his feet off the table and bounced to his feet rushing off. "Now we need to interview him and find out how this Shawn died."

Gus flipped through the files squinting at them. 

"there's more files in this!" Gus charged through the hallway then got in the way to the psychic. "You just flipped to the first page!" 

"Because it's the most interesting page of all!"

"Shawn was quite meticulous about this! Which is deeply unusual!" The younger man folded his arms listening to the concerned remarks from the older man who was quite shaken by what he had just seen. "I am the one who keeps records!"

"Very good ones in fact." Shawn remarked.

"Which shows that he was doing alone."

"Has to have been a good reason."

"Or the client wasn't paying."

"It makes  lot of sense, Gus."

"Why was he keeping a record about this case? What do you know about it?"

"Detective Lassiter looked at me like I shouldn't be alive and that it was all his fault." He smacked his hand on the palm of his hand for emphasis. "Someone needs to get that guilt and unshared grief off him, it's not going to help him in the long run, it needs to be shared, and you know he's gone, but you don't got proof, tell me, tell me you still believe that Shawn is alive."

"He's alive until I see his corpse and run away distraught!"

"This is a very morbid discussion, Gus."

"We got all the information that we need right here, nice and thick, we don't need to talk to Lassiter, we need to start reading." Shawn gripped the pharmaceutical salesman. "Officer Lassiter is only going to give us bread crumbs that he followed!"

"Gus, Gus," his voice was soft. 

"What?"

"He's the last one who saw me."

Gus stared as his brown eyes shifted from side to side upon the comment being dropped. 

"If we're doing detective work then we follow the evidence, 'Shawn'." Gus replied.

And now he was opting to read when the most pressing issue should be cutting through the words.

"Okay then read the files while I hound our favorite thorn." Shawn snatched the large file out of the man's hand then smacked it against the salesman's chest. "We're doing a missing person's investigation. Which is a whole new investigation following his trail of what he did instead of what these people did."

"You don't know if what these people did are part of a reason why he is gone!"  Gus exclaimed. 

Gus stepped back at the last part then rubbed his face as the psychic looked upon from him behind quite softly and sympathetic upon the acknowledgement that he could be gone for good.

It was as if a balloon full of a potential of a new normal was popped and everything just became grave and somber which wasn't the fake psychic's field of expertise when it came to living in immaturity and the aftermath of discovering his mom left dad. His dad lived through the cloud of sorrow with his head held high and being sharp as a blade which was both admirable and frustrating. If his dad could do that then so could Gus.

"This is a body recovery operation, Gus...." his voice was gentle and softened contrast to his usual bravado which was a lot. "This is the most pressing issue right now instead of solving the old case and all you're going to do is spin in circles instead of getting somewhere."

Shawn turned away then opened the door and returned to the company car. 

O'Hara stood in front of the door to Henry Spencer's house. 

She lifted her hand then knocked three times and waited. 

the door slowly opened then Henry appeared looking on toward the acting head detective staring down upon him. 

"You find him... didn't you?" Henry asked, knowingly. "So, where was he? Did he go to Minneapolis as a weather guy or go to Las Vegas and become a guy who drives cars and keeps a low profile because he got into really dangerous shit that's forced him into hiding."

"You need to sit down for this, Henry." O'Hara's voice gave him a long moment of pause as he turned his head aside facing her sliding the door open frowning quit perplexed stepping back. "What I have to say isn't light."

Henry opened the door then she entered.

"So, let everyone think he's dead because he got neck deep in turd. It happens to the best detectives, even fake ones trying to get some cash, scared straight," Henry reflected as he took out a beer from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. "Shawn made a mistake. And somehow Gus wasn't part of it," he lifted the beer can up. "Now that, I am really impressed on."

O'Hara slowly sat down facing him wearing a saddened expression. 

"Henry..." O'Hara started. 

Henry leaned forward as his eyebrows knit together. 

"He's dead, isn't he?" 

O'Hara lowered her gaze then up facing him. 

"We're working with that." O'Hara replied. 

"This is something Karen should be talking to me about." Henry remarked. 

"There's a private detective investigating Shawn's disappearance. He... He... he's very eccentric."

"character's welcome eccentric or very crude?"

"He is pretending to be Shawn. He happens to know a lot about him. I think he's got some mental illness but he's got a good heart and he is actually a pretty good detective," was O'Hara's explanation. "He helped me solve something a few hours ago to prove that he's having a better day on his meds. He remembers things that didn't happen."

Henry was quiet for a moment taking another sip from the can. 

"How...." Henry started, gripping the can. "mentally ill are we talking?"

"Depression." O'Hara said. 

"Sounds like schizophrenia rather than depression." Henry said. "You don't have any leads and yet, you've got a private detective working on it as a favor to give us answers." Henry laid it out there for him. "What changed?"

O'Hara faced him for a long moment. 

"Carlton was the last one who saw Shawn." O'Hara replied. "And he met the guy, the guy read him, now, he's working with Gus, they're going over the case and starting from scratch, and when they're done, maybe a week, or it could be more,  they will tell us what happened to him and why Carlton can't talk about it."

Henry let go of a sigh. 

"Well shit." Henry said. 

O'Hara looked toward Henry, slightly irked. 

"what is it?" O'Hara asked. 

"He asked for some advice, some of it out there, weird, pretty odd, made me think he was venturing into writing when it comes to some really powerful guys, I thought he was going into a new career since Trout was.. you know... sinking it."

"Shawn wasn't really about it but he didn't tell me anything about his current case work.;" O'Hara remembered as the older man took another sip of the beer. "Froze me out of it."

"If Lassiter can't talk about it then it has to involve someone really dangerous, still dangerous, still a pressing threat, still someone who can pose a threat to their livelihood," Henry acknowledged over the matter. "and he has to stop investigating."

"You know someone like Shawn, once he starts investigating, he can't stop."

Henry shook his head, laughing, amused, darkly. 

"He can when he is dead." it was a terrible punchline in a terrible tale. "Get him to find his corpse and stop investigating it. It's best for his family and for everyone who knew my son... he can give us that closure."

"I wish I could make him do that." O'Hara confessed. 

"That's not hard to do, actually." Henry assured. 

Henry sipped from the can as O'Hara lifted her eyebrow tilting her head aside in curiosity. 

Chapter Text

Lassiter was in the car watching the beat. 

Living in the familiar cruel normal that lacked Shawn Spencer. 

The man that hadn't shown up revealing his gloriously annoying and youthful face to the officer. Hadn't waltzed right in despite being banned from showing up without a care in the world. The man had known little to nothing last that he knew so he wouldn't be surprised to get a call that a look alike of the young man was taken out of the police department thoroughly weirding out the whole department seeing  a familiar person who brought the spirit of the police department alive in the greatest endeavor ever foreseen over the course of seven to eight years somewhere around there. 

He thought about how the psychic had tugged him out of husk and smoothed out some rougher parts as the head detective figured out his persona between being annoyed by the fake psychic and being a level headed cop in the department who took the job seriously. A battle that was won, long and hard, well crafting, changing himself, slowly, to the material that a woman as lovely as Marlowe found attractive. Shawn had the first slice of the pie before parting him and telling him wonderful things, hoping, believing in him, that he could find someone good for him.

Was Shawn not good enough for him? The way that the psychic lived became a surely big red flag that the chaos that he lived in was not deserving of one very head detective. Wit the way things had collapsed, it was a stroke of luck that Shawn and Lassiter hadn't committed all those years ago. Sparing his career that had chances of recovering and Shawn figuring out what came next which was so painfully slow hearing only whispers sometimes and the rare calls. The fake psychic had a small special part in his heart that was reserved for it that was stolen and dead taken to the great beyond. 

"HEEEEeeeeeyyy Laaaaaasssie! What's got you down? We can't have our beat cop ruining the mood, can we?"

His eyes gazed toward the psychic in the mirror set on the back seat wearing that stupid grin.

"Spencer!" Lassiter shot back, annoyed. 

He was jerked out of his mind looking over toward the sudden shout behind him.

There was nothing there and then he was met awfully by the reminder that Shawn could not be there.

A cruel joke being performed by his brain as the psychic's voice lingered in his mind for the longest time long after he had ceased being there.  It is like the psychic was his mind's security protection from lingering too much on the topic.

Dispatch called then he answered the radio and sped off toward the nearest park.

He parked the police cruiser then squinted at two familiar figures standing side by side looking off toward the kids and nannies. Lassiter got out of the car then walked briskly toward the men wearing the most cold and outraged expression.

"Spencer, Guster."

Gus looked over toward the figure by his side.

"Really? That is how we get his attention, 'Shawn'?"

"It worked by accident the first time around with buzz during the red balloon case with the chief's baby."

The duo turned toward the older man facing him.

"Is it true you are the last one who saw Shawn?"

Right in the jugular and a simple punch to the guy that was emotional.

"How do you know that?"  Lassiter asked 

Gus's face paled in response to the question.

"Your eyes, detective." Shawn answered. 

Lassiter looked over closely toward him with coldness in his eyes.

"Why haven't you told anyone about this?" Gus asked.

"He told me not to talk about it."

Shawn stared back at the beat cop shaking his head.

"Shawn... Our Shawn.." Gus was taken in disbelief shaking his head and emotional broken. "told you to keep a secret?" Gus held his hands out, furrowing perplexed regarding the fatal events that unfolded. "Our Shawn?"

Gus couldn't believe it even over the look that came from the former head detective.

"He's been Melodee Buzzarded." Shawn replied. 

"Why are you using a name as a noun?" Lassiter asked then faced the salesman quite irked and bothered by the remarked.  "Does he do this around you, too?"

"It's the same thing as Gabby Petito'ed." Shawn replied. 

"That is not the case and you know it." Gus argued. 

"They were both dead when they were missing." Shawn remarked 

"Context is important how they died!" Gus argued. 

"They dieeeeed so it is the same thing." Shawn insisted. 

"No, it is not!" Lassiter butted in. "It's like saying Captain America was Ian Malcolm'ed."

"Sexy beast posing." Shawn answered, his voice becoming, nice, deep, hammier.

Gus's eyebrows lifted then pressed together at the mere subject.

"HOW do you understand that reference!" Gus asked, looking over irritated toward Shawn. 

Shawn looked over wearing a smile facing the younger man then faced the beat cop getting to the point. 

"Where is the body, Carlton?" Shawn asked.

Lassiter didn't reply staring at the man who was a sharp contrast, no half of his face scattered in blood or hurt.  No panting. No laying on his side on the floor. Whole, fine, untouched, and innocent unharmed civilian.

His hazel eyes open studying him looking into those guilty blue eyes.

"Where is the last place you saw him." Gus added. 

Shawn's mouth started to fall 

"Oohhhh...oooh . " Shawn's voice softened 

"What is it?' Gus looked  back and forth.

"Lassiter asked me for help." Seeing guilt from asking for help on a case that deserved being investigated. His face fell shaking his head as his mouth fell so slightly facing the former head detective full of sympathy. "You were the client."

"And he wasn't paying." Gus assumed.

"He did it as a favor."  Lassiter replied, heartbroken

Gus stared on seeing the hard heartbreak in the former detective's eyes and the guilt. 

"Where .. where was the last place you saw him?" Gus asked. 

Lassiter looked over toward the psychic for a moment. 

"why don't you ask him." Lassiter replied.

"The spirits don't work that way, it's a feature to both hate, despise, and love." Was the answer that the psychic gave. "You are the only one who knows what happened to him in this general area. I don't need to repeat myself over that."

Everything felt still for the former head detective remembering the moment in which entire worlds were being shot out in the life shattering moment. 

Running from the men, away, leading the charge with the fake psychic lagging behind him gazing over his shoulder in a moment of fear. Shawn's scream piercing the air, Lassiter pausing in his tracks then turning toward him facing the psychic cupping the side of his face facing him grimacing on his knees. The side of his right temple was bleeding not fast but slowly, it was fresh and nice with a circular hole. 

"GO, CARLTON!"

A scream that pierced the calm and cool demeanor of the fake psychic. 

"Don't need to scream it at me!"

"I mean without me!"

Lassiter looked on in the distance then back facing the psychic rushing over to his side, running smoothly through the air as if he were a knife rushing through butter, in a urgent terrifying moment then lifting him up and guiding him away. The sound of gun fire piercing the air ever so distantly behind them in the distance. One arm linked on the fake psychic's shoulder and the other gripping dealt with clasping his gun exchanging gun fire. 

"Not without you, mystic!" 

He was full of defiance against the dark and dreary nature of the predicament. 

"You can't run with me back to the car." Was the reminder. 

Lassiter clenched his teeth before answering the question. 

"Yes, I can!" Lassiter barked back. 

Shawn looked over grimacing toward the former head detective then hung his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

"No, you can't!" Shawn snapped back. 

"Once we get back to the parking lot, you will be able to jog to the car!"

"Keep dreaming, Carlton, keep dreaming."

"I will open the door for you, and I will get into the driver seat, and rush you back to the hospital rushing over speed limit!"

"You make Big Fish sound so emotionally beautiful with Ewan McGreggor and Albert Finney."

"I will get a police chase that acts as a police escort before finding out what the hell is going on with me! I will make sure that the hands of justice protect you by being the most erratic driver and beat cops will be standing in front of your door until one of us start telling about the mess! And get US marshals in the room! And then we will both end up in witness protection!"

"What about Gus?"

"Does he know anything?"

"No!"

"You have to leave him behind!"

"I left him behind once!"

There was a sea of hurt and reluctance.

"I left him hanging at several old jobs after leaving! Lassie, they nailed me in the  leg!" Shawn snapped back at him. "IN THE LEG!"

Shawn cried out with a scream that belted in the air throwing his head back  a cry.

He lowered his head and tears were freely falling as Lassiter move aside gazing over toward him slack jawed but still glaring.

"AND THE WAaaaiiiiiiiiST!"

His other hand went to his back shrieking in pain as bullets were flying

"And the damn back! My baaaaaack!" Shawn cried out in pain as his knees buckled. "I can feel the sting!" His head was thrown back once again as he shrieked. "OH, IT BURNS!"

Lassiter came to a halt alongside a tall granite beam made of recycled trash then set the psychic down who was in a world of pain. 

His cold eyes drifted back and forth between the wound and the gun. His normally still hand was trembling. 

"Carlton, never talk about this to anyone."

"I have to talk about this," Lassiter reloaded the gun then felt the psychic's hand rest on his shoulder making him turn his attention toward him. "I have to call it in after nailing all these guys into Hell!"

Shawn wore concerned kind eyes facing him as his mind was focused on the head detective who had a everything, a well paying job, not like him, he was married, he had a good reputation among the police force. 

"Run away and never come back." Shawn plead.

"Don't you dare Jeremy Irons me." Lassiter shot back. 

"Never look back, not even for a moment." Shawn's hazel eyes were full of pain. "It'll torture you every day of your life," shaking his head full of appreciation and affection for him. "We need the city's finest protector in mental excellent shape."

Lassiter looked over toward the fake psychic who's hand moved then cradled the side of the former head detective's cheek.

"What if I do that anyway, Spencer?" Lassiter reminded the younger man of the cost and his heart. "Failing to bring you back!"

A small pause was had as the fake psychic shook his head admiring the beat cop.

"The show's over, Carl.. Carl.. Carly." His words were gentle between his hacking into a fist. his fist becoming decorated in blood ever so neatly the looking up wearing that characteristic smile. "We need our powerful star to enjoy his happy ending."

"THIS IS NOT A HAPPY ENDING SPENCER!" Lassiter barked back in a fit of emotional distress. "this is a sad ending! A bittersweet one!"

His hand moved over toward the former head detective's mouth covering it with such gentle care, not tightly, just nice and loose, covered in his blood, looking up toward him.

"And you are never going to tell a soul what happened today."

Shawn's hand fell then the former head detective caught it.

"You and Marlowe are going to have wonderful kids," he lifted his hand up pressing against the side of his temple. "the spirits," his eyes fluttered close as he rested there with his back against the pillar. "they say, the kids love the stories about Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster..."

"Stop it!"

"Make them as dramatic as possible..."

"STOP IT, SPENCER!"

"Exaggerate, make it sound like a cartoon, make it inspiring..." Lassiter stopped protesting facing him shaking his head. "Who knows, they might end up making a cartoon inspired by our stories. Go, go home, go home to Marlowe, you deserve her, not sweet death."

Lassiter wiped his tears off with the back of his fist then faced the psychic clenching on to the plaid.  

"I won't leave you to die alone with everything to lose." Lassiter's words were shaky between tears fighting back sobs and sniffles keeping his composure as his voice was becoming quite upset. 

Shawn withdrew a smart phone from his pants pocket and held up the phone. 

"I got Gus just a phone call away." that familiar cocky grin appeared on his face.

Lassiter was flooded in horror at the call that was slated to unfold.

"Don't make me leave you behind, detective." Lassiter replied. 

He pushed Lassiter away then the beat cop got up to his feet.

"Go!"

Shawn screamed from the top of his lungs.

"GO!" A loud cry of pain and heartache. "NOW!" Lassiter started to run at the yelling coming from the fake psychic. "NOW, LASSIE!" his screaming lingering behind the beat cop. "TIMMY IS SAVING YOUR LIFE! DON'T BE A ACTUAL LASSIE!"

Lassiter ran fast as his legs could carry him.

"Run..."

Shawn dragged himself away from the concrete floor leaving a nice pool of blood into the greenery.

"run..."

Hacking into his fist.

"Run as fast as Jonathan Taylor Thomas running from Whoopi Golderberg, Jim Cummings, and Cheech Marin!" his scream was carried through the forest. 

Lassiter paused alongside a tree among the thick tree line then watched the young man turn on the smart phone. He peered over and watched browse through, proceed to dial, waiting, calling a couple times.

Shawn was a persistent young man in getting a call in through the terrible cell service that he had in this part outside of the city. A ordinary heart sank watching the scene proceed on from afar. Acting as a television viewer in which the show was being given an awful ending on the guise of a good ending that meant slapping the viewers harshly for sticking around for so long watching pure light cozy funny entertainment supporting it.

He took a single step forward watching the fake psychic drop the phone into the foliage leaning over and hacking. A small puddle of blood landing in his hand followed by a bullet as the blood dripped down his lips. 

His best friend not answering the calls; probably busy. And that made the psychic very emotional as his eyes were blinded in tears falling over to his side. He was working with the phone put aside during selling pills for the elderly.

Shawn proceeded to crawl away from the scene clawing at the sea of leaves and pine tree needles. He crawled through the greenery then lifted his head up over his groaning and hacking.

Shawn looked up facing a figure then held his hand up looking ahead as one of the men started to approach and shaking his head pleading for Lassiter not to go with him to the great beyond. 

Lassiter lowered the gun then put it into the holster and watched. Shawn was panting, squinting, shaking his head. His mouth hanging open. A compromise was born and set for the situation: Lassiter was there for as long as Shawn was on the land of the living.

Shawn turned his attention toward the figure who lifted the gun aiming right at him. 

"Heeeeeey, Iazo May'io Aka ...." Shawn coughed into his fist. "Robbins Bobbins Slobbins..." Hacking hard into the greenery being stained  by field of red. "Aka..." another hard hack. "Rudolph Curity."

The tall Caucasian man with dark messy hair gazed down, a nice five o'clock shadow, blue eyes, nice aging facial lines, almost looked like he wore a wig.

"Why don't you die you annoying little menace!" Curity shot back, his hand trembling. 

Shawn looked up toward the older man for a moment between the annoying little hacking going on. 

"My contract ..." Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, falling over to his back. "and the script..." Resting his head on the grass as Curity loomed over him. "states we need a scene together to bounce off."

"There is nothing to bounce off, psychic!"

"Or should I call you Evil Tom Cruise."

Another bullet fired into the psychic who turned to his side with a cry clenching his shoulder and a scream.

"Say this with love, politely; stop talking." Curity said then motioned for his companions.

The men parted searching for Lassiter who's back was pressed against the tree with his eyes resting on the scene.

"You really want to add a former police consultant to your tally?" Trying to press into the man's mind with the dangling reminder of what he once was. "They're going to treat this as slaughtering one for their own. The prosecutor is going to go after the death penalty for this case."

"Is that really what you want your last words to be, Shawn Spencer!" Curity roared back in a moment of rage over the hacking coming from the fake psychic. "Taunting me? Over your death?

Shawn fell to his side puking out some blood then turned his head aside facing him who was kneeling down to his level. 

"I don't want to hurt people." Shawn replied. 

Curity growled at the comment then laughed. 

"Liar." Curity accused. 

"Since when?" Shawn asked, innocently. 

A harsh smile was coming from Curity. 

"Getting yourself hurt." Curity said. 

"My last words..." Shawn coughed as Curity looked around until finding the smart phone then picked it up. "huh..." His hacking continued on. "this is it."&

"YES!" Curity shot back, furious. "Decide on something!" Shaking the gun with emphasis aiming back at the psychic. "Anything!" 

"My last words.. that's a big awful thing.." Shawn faced the blue sky, ice, beautiful, and magnificent. "let me think about that," tapping his hand on the side of his temple. "or, consult the spirits."

"Or I can just call back this Gus guy." Curity pressed the button then waited. 

Shawn faced the sky in the silence that was passing through. 

"The spirits want me to join them on the other side of the curtain, it's urgent, immediate, telling me I have some... genuine apologies to make... for my acts..." hacking quite weakly as his voice was losing strength. "sorry."

"Is that really all you have to say."

"nothing torture or torment everyone with... they're going to be okay, the spirits tell me they will be, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about that... and by the way, the funny part is."

"What?" Curity asked. 

He lifted himself up then smiled facing him wearing a big grin as the view became distant from the head detective's view. 

"Sikeeee!" Shawn wiggled his hands wearing the biggest delighted grin, having a gall of a time. "I'm not a psychic!" Waving his hands for emphasis at how the man fell for it in the middle of laughing. "Have a pineapple! It's good for you!"

Curity exploded in rage shortly thereafter with a outraged scream contrasting Shawn's laughter and the subsequent attack with the gun.

Shawn was against the tree cradling his head feeling the immense pain and suffering of the bullets. Gus knelt down by the side of the younger man gazing back and forth at the screaming that was coming from the young man that sounded awful. Lassiter reassured the public that all was well and it was merely a psychotic episode handling it pretty well from a law enforcement stand point. 

Beat cops who appeared drove away speeding off. 

Shawn's scream killed the calm and peace in the air, it's a scream of grief, heartache, and emotional pain. 

His hands digging into the grass wrecked with sobs and pain on his knees being souped up in hideous pain. 

"This is the most eccentric detective that I ever met!" Gus announced, looking over toward Lassiter. "He just collapsed after the question!"

"... he ... somehow... locked in.." Lassiter remarked. "how did he do that?" Lassiter tilted his head as the words were coming out of his mouth in the surreal moment that was wrong and horrible. "Psychics can do that?"

Lassiter's gaze rested on the pharmaceutical salesman who was bothered by the performance just as much as he was.

"I don't think con artists would let this guy on his team as a thief to his terrible acting." Gus added. 

"They would get sick of it and kick him out if he didn't get better at it." Lassiter agreed. 

Lassiter looked down upon the younger man remembering the details of what came after, running away, once the attack was over, once the laughter had ceased, once Curity's screaming kept on going in rage. Lassiter remembered leaping into the police cruiser, driving away, the lights off, gripping the steering wheel, driving through the heaviness of water that was in the air. Abandoning the corpse to the well hidden compound made of recycled materials. 

Lassiter knelt down toward the fake psychic's level then up facing him. 

"We're going to need an old retired police dog and something of Spencer's to find him for free." Lassiter remarked. 

"Why?" Gus looked over 

"Because the corpse might be somewhere else buried somewhere in that area." Lassiter's voice was mellowed out and sad. 

Gus looked back toward Shawn then up facing Lassiter as the possibility of his best friend being dead became feasible.

"That will be easy," Gus began to reply. "a lot of his stuff is still at Psych that he hasn't touched."

Chapter Text

The drive to the location outside of the city was pretty long.

So silent without anyone talking in the police cruiser that had a retired k-nine unit behind them driving with the dog poking it's head out.  Shawn was the type who was a chatterbox and this man wasn't talking at all. A big blatant reminder that this was not the man who had went missing. He looked over toward his side listening to the sound of the man humming as his mind registered the sound. 

Humming softly with his legs crossed on the seat taking up a enormous space tapping his fingers together and his head lifted up. It was the most ridiculous thing that the pharmaceutical salesman had been party to glaring in the general direction of the stranger. 

"Are you meditating on the way to a missing person's crime scene, 'Shawn'?"

"It helps tune out the divine setting picking up those who wandered in and got killed or dumped there for various reasons by stealthy killers."

"Out here?"

"Yes, out here!"

"In this part of California?"

"Outside of the city!"

"You must be watching too much crime shows."

Shawn opened an eye facing the older man for a moment studying him.

"It was your idea in the first place so I got some peace and quiet on the road so those visions don't plague me." his voice started out normal but slowly he started to use his outside voice. "Normally, I don't do the humming, the criss cross apple sauce, but these spirits, they're loud, and this is a very urgent task to perform!"

Gus scowled at the remark that seemed to be reeking of bullshit from the guy who was animated. 

"And just how many visions might be plaguing you if you weren't relaxed?" Gus asked, skeptically. 

"It's like William Shatner in a torture booth that Leonard Nimoy put him." Shawn replied. 

"You mean Walter Koenig." Gus hissed.

Shawn dismissed it with a shrug looking aside puckering his lips. 

"I mixed that up so easily due to that well made fan made video..." Shawn reflected. 

"You are mixing up two well made episodes is what you are doing!" Gus shot back. 

"Maybe it was AI." Shawn looked aside giving it some thought about the issue. "That is a lot of water wasted there." He squinted staring on still using his outside voice that boomed through the police cruiser. Pressing the side of his temple looking through his memory.  "A lot of data centers..."

"could you please stop shouting!" Lassiter asked, not so calmly.

"He's trying to drown out the spirits!" Gus used his indoor voice. 

"He's drowning out the peace and quiet!" Lassiter snapped. 

"Mine too!" Gus agreed. 

"I was wondering..." there was a significant little pause as he gave back and forth thinking it over. 

"I can arrest that man for disorderly conduct if he weren't helping us." Lassiter said, bitterly. 

"I could give him sleep meds that'll make him not be our problem and abandon him at a homeless shelter!" Gus chime in. 

"Devilish, Guster." He looked over toward the pharmaceutical salesman full of admiration. "didn't think that was in you for that."

"Strikes me as the guy who doesn't have a place to crash like Columbo." Gus confessed. 

Those youthful hazel eyes consumed in concern and wonder traveling back in time in his mind chronologically going over the records through the various file cabinets in his mind.

"it.."

Gus's brown eyes rested on him, deeply frustrated.

"It... what, 'Shawn'?" Gus asked, annoyed. 

"Yeah! yeah! It was too artistic! The eyes!" Shawn was snapping his fingers looking back and forth beaming. "It was AI! It was so cartoony!"

Gus rested his eyes until the car came to a sudden stop. 

Lassiter as the first to emerge then remained on standby clasping his hands standing alongside the ditch of the road. 

The retired k-nine unit emerged out of the old beat up car that had sense better days. A graying face, beefy, not as slender as it once was, wagging it's tail from side to side, eager to greet people. A young woman was tugged by the old dog that came to a stop in front of the younger man who knelt down and gave him a couple loving ear rubs wearing a big grin. A grin that was deeply infectious the dog proceeded to grin. 

"Ready for the search?"

"I'm not going in there, Behara."

"You're not?"

"I was asked by a friend to keep my neck out of it. It's the only reason why I am here."

"The only reason why he hasn't bothered reporting about it!" Gus snapped.

Shawn looked over toward the pharmaceutical salesman who's words were baked in immense hurt. 

"This is your bane of your existence," Behara remarked. "finding crime, solving mystery, old Lassiter, a bull dog given a bone full of meat, you chew it until the meat is gone like those dogs on those midevial fantasy shows." 

Lassiter cleared his throat with a sharp inhale. 

"I got  a life to think about." Lassiter answered, bitterly. 

"Already, get Georgie the old thing." Behara said. 

Gus withdrew the old stale bag of cheesepuffs from his person then held it in front of the dog that sniffled then turned in the direction of Shawn and begged for a treat.

"I told you," Shawn replied as the dog gazed back and forth. "I am Shawn." 

"Bullshit." Gus answered, glaring back.

"He's similar to the guy that we're searching for." Lassiter supplied to Behara.

"So he is a sibling."

"Very close." Lassiter replied then shrugged. "I don't know about him, honestly."

Shawn looked over in the direction of the former head detective wearing a smile then back over toward the dog cradling the big canine head that was furry and decorated in white and had a dangling tongue.

"Wrong Shawn, boy." Shawn said. 

Georgie turned away lifting his nose up smelling something in the air then making a run for it taking the leash along. 

"Good boy!" Shawn called, running on after the dog.

"Georgie!"  Behara shouted. 

The trio ran except for Lassiter who merely watched them run down the road then descend into the heavy forest line.

Georgie's loud, deep, sharp, and alarming barks echoed in the air. A woman in a pencil skirt running wearing high heels reminded Lassiter of old times when he was the one mentoring the former junior detective now full detective. He watched them go into the tree line until he could not. The barking continued on for a long while becoming a merely distant sound that carried on in the air. 

Georgie came to pause in the middle of the forest then started to dig into the earth. 

The crowd collided against each other landing into a large gap between the roots of a very old tree there in a dog pile. 

Gus was the first to get up then charge after the dog dusting himself off walking fast but his steps felt slow chasing the canine. 

The canine was digging along sending clumps of dirt up from the earth wagging his long thick tail from side to side and barking. 

Gus came to a stop in his tracks upon seeing a nice large hole dug up and the dog was having a blast continuing to dig being carried away. He stared at the familiar set up of clothing that his best friend used to wear. The corpse partially buried in the dirt halfway dug up. Nice purple plaid that was faded, torn, the remains of a necklace around where the neck should be, and the skull was caked in dirt. The skull itself had multiple cracks —more than usual for a skull— with a notable hole on the right temple. A locket. 

It's like having tunnel vision as his mind super imposed Shawn's frame witnessing damaged ribs, damage notable in the leg, his torso showed some sense of damage even the shoulders. One shoulder had caught a bullet that was still there. The jaw was hanging open, as if he was still laughing.  There was a notable blade sticking out of the chest out of the corpse. 

Shawn joined his side then stared at the corpse for a while. 

"at least he died fast and peacefully."

"Oh my God! OH MY GOD!"

"He didn't die quick." Shawn said. "His murderer snatched the knife and cut off the finger with the engagement ring." Gus's eyes were kept off the hand as he felt a hand grab hold on to his shoulder then give him a shake. "Gus." Gently shaking him. "Gus. Gus, look.."

"No, no, no, no."

"I don't believe a single word. He's dead enough."

Gus was staring at the corpse starting to get emotional unable to pay attention to the finer details, all he saw was a freshly dead body all alone when his body should be laying there beside him. Skeletonized with visible remains of his attire sticking to the figure. Gus clenched his hand then pressed his knuckles against his mouth as his vision became blurred and his eyes became stingy. 

"Everything you ever need is right in front of you." Shawn reminded. "And he didn't die screaming," Gus looked over toward the younger man taken back by the disturbing comment as he gaped. "he died laughing."

"Shot in the head?"

Shawn was quiet for a long moment staring at him. 

"Blunt force trauma."

He felt like an upset baby getting ready to throw a fit and wail and a horrible tantrum not knowing the bastard who did this. All that pain and sadness of Shawn's absence faded away replaced by gravitas of hurt, guilt, and heartache of losing him for god.

"Blunt force trauma?" Gus repeated, distraught, getting angry, glaring, harshly. "BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA?"

"Gus, it's super easy to know the definition behind it without using AI to look it up." Shawn answered

"Why are you saying that? Being killed by blunt force trauma?" His voice was getting broken as he jabbed a finger into the man's chest making the younger man stepping back as more tears came up on the edges of his eyes. "Why? What are you saying? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?"

"The corpse is saying that if you aren't paying attention." Shawn motioned toward the head with his hand, deflecting the conversation. 

Gus turned completely in his direction shaking his head then looked back toward the corpse. 

Gus saw the engagement ring finger was missing and the gap that was there so pronounced and notable. 

Gus turned away then fled from the scene of the crime belting out the longest and anguished scream that made the air so uncomfortable.

O'Hara was at her desk filling some police work. 

She had only adjusted to the new normal without an loud and unique character in her life. 

Someone who commanded her complete attention and made the world a much entertaining place to be in a world made of crime and few bits of joy that could be snuffed out by death itself. Her chest felt heavier inhaling and exhaling feeling like he was still there but she couldn't see him. He was truly, he was back in her life, but so different, and then, there were days, she could smell him in the air, feel his random touches hear his voice at times, random, old memories coming back, sometimes dreaming of him and how they had these calm domestic moments. 

Her phone rang then she picked it up and swiped the screen. 

"Juliet O'Hara." 

It was silence over the other end of the call. 

"We... we... we found Spencer." Lassiter replied. 

She could hear screaming that was loud and full of emotional pain. 

"Is that Gus."

"It is."

"What if it isn't?"

"Pretty sure it's him."

"We'll have someone mold his face to be sure about it."

"O'Hara...." Lassiter started. "I tried, I really tried to make sure he came back to you," a cold and broken confession. "and he just wouldn't let me go with him."

"If you had been successful, Shawn would have made us bring the person responsible to justice, his life be damned.. Carlton... Shawn would have never held it against you for going home."

"He died and I was there and I couldn't do anything about it. Not a damn. I couldn't investigate... That's another tally for the police department's reputation to going down the gutter." Bleak and harsh. " Known former consultant dies on a case without police involvement. The press is going to have a field day about it."

"What about you?..." O'Hara's voice was soft and lowered turning toward the office that once belonged to the rightful chief. "How are you going to be holding up?"

"I made a promise to Spencer shortly before his death, O'Hara." Lassiter reminded, arrogantly. "I am intending on keeping it." She can hear him rubbing his face over a sigh then release another long held emotionally pained breath. "I gotta..." Making the hardest announcement. "I gotta make a few calls."

"Partner," O'Hara started, softly. how about I make them."

"No, no, I literally have to make it." Lassiter protested. "Harris's world has to be shaken by the one man who could have feasibly made this never happen at all if he were in the position of power and this man, this man, this man has to deal with it."

"What are you going to say?"

"What am I going to say..."

Lassiter gave it some thought looking on toward the road, contemplating it all.

"Strange guy walked up, egged us to find him, we obliged, gave a old retired dog a scent which lead us there out in the forest, and we found a body," Lassiter's voice was cold and about cheerful. "Only after I tell him that the police department has a big problem that risks its reputation with consultants. then I will tell him that we lost one of our own. Then I will tell him."

"You're just going to say its about Spencer then do the lying."

a heavy pause lingered there in the call between them as she could feel and sense the anger radiating from him. 

"... Sounds less hostile, I'll go with it." Lassiter sounded calmer and less furious than before at the ego that resulted in such a tragedy. "I'll be there... in..." she heard the door close then the car start. "thirty minutes."

"Don't bring him in."

"He's taking a power nap!" Familiar snoring was heard over the line. "Or whatever." There was a sound of protest over the other end about getting a shut eye that was so familiar. "one moment, I don't want to run over Guster, I have to stop him from running, but it looks like I am going to gently hit him, get out, grab him, and hold him until he stops screaming."

Lassiter hung up on the other end of the phone. 

Shawn stood there in the bright golden and dim lit forest. 

There was naturally cast shadows in the perfect environment that had birds chirping, bugs flying about, branches flying up and down ever so gently. it felt nice and calm in a heavenly form. Silence and calmness that ended a period of turmoil. He stood there looking down upon the corpse with his fingers slid in his pockets shaking his head in so much pity.

"You can go now," Shawn said to thin air beside him. "I got it from here." then he swallowed hard, before correcting himself. "They got it to mend themselves without you..."

Doubt hung there in the air from the doubtful observer who had seen it all fall apart. Seeing emotionally the aftermath of his disappearance. The pain of leaving them all behind. Silence that was so profound. The air felt nice, calm, and still. Georgie was withdrawn by Behara who handed off a treat to the old dog as she planted a marker to the scene then started to rush on. Birds chirped there in the air. 

Shawn turned to his side facing the ghost that couldn't be seen by normal eyes.

"I promise you," Sincere, kind, and soothing hazel eyes drilled in by comfort and gentleness upon a tormented soul. "Carlton is going to be okay." 

A murder victim stared at him, scared, after seeing everything not being okay, shaking his head, still caked in his own blood. 

The psychic awoke from the nap in the back of the police cruiser then looked over and sighed rubbing his face. He leaned forward and lowered his head in a moment of emotional upheaval. He swallowed then snatched out some snacks from his pocket. He remained there nice and slouched watching him emerge from the police car then jogged up the stairs, wearing a grin that was so evil, opened the door,  and walked in. 

Shawn crept out of the car then walked away closing the door behind him making a sped run from the scene. 

He took out his phone making his return to the other forest that was very pressing that he needed to make a fast return into. 

He halted in his tracks lowering the phone thinking it over about the chaos that was going on the other end of the forest then turned around, sighing, changing his mind. He returned to the car then pressed against it and waited, leaning forward, resting his head on his elbows, remaining there, still. 

The door swung open then Trout reappeared. 

"This is the private detective that made us find him." Lassiter concluded.  "Who happens to share the same name as Shawn Spencer."

Shawn waved his hand as Trout stared in disbelief at the report then faced Lassiter. 

"Bullshit!" Trout shouted. "Your friend and his buddy found a body, and you want to treat it seriously, you got it, I am not falling for this cruel prank; we'll have the corpse dug up and identified."

"Hey, Trout."

Trout faced him. 

"What are you going to do?" Shawn lifted his head up wearing a grin. "Ban me harder from the premises?"

"Get a restraining order." Trout answered. 

Shawn looked from the crowd of detectives and officers that had appeared during the commotion then he shrugged. 

"I can do this without the police department on investigating why someone wants to kill our favorite former head detective." Shawn replied. 

Chapter Text

It was a bit later and Lassiter was back on the beat.

There was the sound of crunching beside him that meant the whole thing wasn't over. A dreary and horrible nightmare living in a world without the fake psychic that had became cruel upon him. He had shaken off the pharmaceutical salesman. Save for the psychic who was in the seat beside him eating a plastic bug full of Chex mix.

How he got his hands on it was beyond the former head detective who was bothered how the young man hadn't left Lassiter. (more like returned somehow after walking away making a point that he was doing it without the police department) It was as if a mental projection of the fake psychic had escaped his mind and became alive under unknown means that was a event held between those who loved him the most as a form of mass hysteria and hadn't vanished. 

"Would you please get out of my cruiser and leave this case?"

The best politeness the former head detective could muster.

"Awww, you are being polite that is sweet."

"Get out of here, Spencer."

"Not even asking how and why I look temporally displaced?'

"Far as I am concerned that is a question that doesn't need answering."

"What am I to you?" Shawn asked, intrigued. 

"You are simply a ghost that appeared to give closure to the dead that's due to be known." Shawn was starting to grin like he were the sun in the sky. "Your heavenly mission is over."

"Detective Carlton Lassiter does believe in the supernatural after all." Smacking his hands together that caused the former head detective to wince as it made a loud static noise in his hearing aid. "Plot twist! I never saw that coming a mile away! After all these years..."

"To the supernatural, I take off its mask and say 'bah hum bug'."

Shawn lifted a brow in the middle of laughing. 

"Bah hum bug?"

Lassiter paused for a moment keeping his eyes on the road and his ears present for the radio. 

"It's better then giving the Miranda Rights first." Lassiter said. 

"Like a police dork." came with such affection. Innocent, young, sharp as a razor, and teasingly that was different from the later years. "Oh Lassie, admit you will laugh at their faces before cuffing them."

"You would." If Shawn were a cop which he flunked the police academy alongside the pharmaceutical salesman. "I wouldn't."

"Come on, Lassie...." Shawn's voice softened looking over toward him. "you know you want Rudolph Curity without a red glowing nose to be arrested."

The comment blindsided him how it was executed so flawlessly in a world that didn't have the light yet his words carried them so thoroughly.

"Spencer, that is a negative." Lassiter replied. 

Anger crossed the face of the psychic who glared at him. 

"Someone tried to kill you and you are brushing it off!" Shawn was outraged. 

A emotional lash out that hurt with all the justified anger of someone who cared.  Hard.

"The life that I lead isn't worth..." Lassiter paused before finishing that comment. "Investigating over."

His entire heart was his very being. He was so kind and that's what made him a effective private investigator, being sympathetic to those who were squarely suspected of wrong doing and had done nothing wrong. Remembering Shawn Spencer meant remembering the most ridiculous stunts that he pulled being so animated even the happy new year parties. Alcohol on their breath, taking his hand, a old flame protesting vehemently at the officer's party the last year they worked together, gently guiding him into a dance, over Gus and O'Hara's amusement, gentle. Oh. Shawn had lived.

He would even feel sympathy for the guy begging to be arrested blaming himself for the death of a colleague that was indirectly his fault and ask Lassiter to arrest him for any reason that gave him some prison time due to how pathetic they were being. Which was exactly once that happened to a Mx David Drake Donald who was sincerely religious. A few months before Trout entered their lives.

Memories that were so soft and tinged in sweetness. 

"Look at me, Lassie."

The last time that he was asked by the young man bearing a strong resemblance to the one and only dead man, it was hard to look at him, crumbled, torn asunder, the feelings breaking him, tearing apart his emotional heart piece by piece without a scream, knowing how much it hurt just to look at him in the same enclosed space 

"No." Lassiter declined, shaking his head. "not even going to do that," Squeezing his eyes forward. "no, no."

Shawn cupped the side of his face facing the former head detective in such a moment of fondness. 

"You know you wanna look," he leaned forward facing the beat cop.

Shawn gently cradled the side of the former head detective's face then turned it toward him. 

"What am I to you, ghost?" Lassiter asked. 

"You're Carlton Lassiter."

"That I am, and you're not Shawn Spencer."

"The apple of the Santa Barbara Police Department, gunning for chief, a man who's moved on from that nasty divorce with Victoria, focusing on the department's reputation, acting like a chief, a very lovely warm workaholic who's  icicle that's actually a puddle of warmth..."

So thoroughly sweet and gentle talking to him in a caring way that was adorned in love for who he was inside.

"All those relationships you've forged behind the scenes and all those connections that you got, just because you're demoted, doesn't mean you're demoted to those around you even when wearing the clothes of someone who is. You may wear the clothes of a beat cop but I am looking at a detective who's lost his wish to be chief and more so yearning for days of being a detective."

How did he know his heart that well. His thoughts swirling shaking his head in a moment of shock and awe as his jaw started to fall and his mouth began to lift. 

"Being a chief doesn't even matter to you. Not anymore."

His eyebrows furrowed together as the young man continued to talk.

"The old Lassie would be so stewing mad and bitter and grumpy," Shawn stretched his hand out then rested it on the chest of the beat cop then rubbed it so gently. "but you," grinning, shaking his head, visibly happy. "you, you are calm and mellowed out, you are serving the city, and that's, that's," why was he being so emotional about Lassiter doing what he did best "that's what keeping you from retiring early."

Shawn looked at the man who was aging wonderfully, his hair so wonderful, lacking the Mr bean hair, something Shawn was so fixated on, thinking of watching the head detective grow gray up close and personal admiring the beautiful change. 

"Painfully are that I am not the ghost of the dead... I would look so, so, so much worse and be so terrifying haunting you in your waking moments, jump scaring, appearing in the dark, staring at you, with white glowing eyes." Shawn gently shook his head ever so slowly. 

The fake psychic was wearing that grin that broke the heart of the former head detective and rebuild it, cradling his soul in the psychic's hand as if it was the most precious thing.  The psychic combed through his dark brown hair shaking his head thinking about the great catch that his counterpart had let go. The brilliant glow of a golden time in his life radiating his beauty at the highest degree. 

"And you know that I am not an impostor." Shawn replied. "Help me investigate this shooting and maybe..." he looked so heartbroken leaning against the side of the door proceeding to laugh. "just maybe, I will go home and let you all finally grieve properly."

Heavily appealing offer.

"Why?"

"Because, Detective, you weren't born to die three years after me, it's like everyone is petering off after you."

"He wouldn't think of it."

"Who could be next? People close to you and I," he motioned back and forth. "Gus? Jules? Dad?"

Lassiter stared back at the psychic as it dawned upon him and a fire was lit up.

"O'hara has to lead the investigation."

"We started this case together exactly three years ago, Lassie. We're finshing it together, besides, Jules is on more pressing and important cases, and if anything, we need outside help that we didn't use last time."

"You want to include McNab and Guster into this?"

"I was thinking dad and you but they're perfect." came the response. "They will have our back through this nightmare tracking down the paid hit men."

"And you're going to identity them with a vision at the shooting sight." Lassiter replied.

"you want to go back to the scene of the crime." Shawn wore that grin shaking his head.

"We have to go back there," Lassiter reminded. "it's where you came from surprising the two of us like a horrifying gruesome jump scare anyway. We have to wait until tomorrow to do it since the forensics is back there."

"Dude, I have to go back there. This afternoon or the middle of the night." Shawn was quite insistent. "Don't need another Gus putting me up on a missing person's flier and calling and spamming my inbox because I didn't call back after job hunting as usual."

"No one needs that," Lassiter agreed.

"Job hunting is worse than hunting for food because that's close to impossible with my record and the AI eating it all up."

Lassiter really stared at the young man for a long moment at the horrifying series of words that had no business put together.

"What year are you from?" Lassiter asked.

"2029." Came the simple answer.

Lassiter stared as the full complexity of the implication sank into his mind.

3 years past the 20th anniversary since they met. He would be old by then. A thought that struck him living in a world where he didn't see Shawn Spencer get old and remain annoying or become more annoying than before. 

A multitude of Shawn Spencers and Burton Gusters, many of them lucky, some of them not so fortune, endless possibilities, endless situations that were pleasant to deeply unhappy. And this was just one of those. This was the world he couldn't bring back Shawn in his arms back to Santa Barbara. The one that wasn't as lucky. There was a world where Shawn got back home to O'Hara and got married. Alive and well, finding a well paid job, a thought, a world, that healed a gaping holes in his heart, something that shook the entire foundations of his pain and heartache thinking of a tragedy that was avoided.

He thought of it all under a glowing yellow tinge. Shawn is older, aging wonderfully, a bit more beefcake, muscular, alongside Gus who was in happier days, a girlfriend that was right for him, growing old together to the end of the line still up to hijinks. He could summon a middle aged Shawn Spencer to his mind with relative ease was that had very little trouble.

Shawn was still gone but it was different in the car. His face remained transfixed staring at the psychic who's character was jarring. He was a Shawn Spencer, the one that still got away. It's like his mind stopped computing.

"Oh sweet oroeo, did I break you?" Shawn asked, concerned. "Oh my," Gasping, leaning back. "I broke him."

And then Carlton Lassiter rebooted as he relaxed letting go of a long held breath and lowered his head gripping the steering wheel.

"I'll drive you back to the crime scene." Lassiter announced.

Chapter Text

Behara got ready to leave when the coroner and the digging team showed up 

Except Georgie got out of her grip and ran afar then started digging into the earth with a vengeance that could not be quieter than it was. Wagging his old fluffy tail from side to side pawing at the earth as if he had nothing else to but dig.

She grabbed the dog by the leash then turned in the direction of the team.

"We got another body over here!" Came the shout.

Georgie cried tugging away from her so strong it was remarkable how he got out of her grasp.

"What is it?" was the reply. "A bear?"

"A human body is unmistakable!" Behara replied.

"I mistook a ape skeleton for a human once." The assistant's reply came. "Thought we had human murder on our hands for days."

"How do you mistake an ape skeleton for a human?" Behara inquired, incredulously.

"It happens." was the coroner's reply. 

The dog ran off from Behara who ran after the dog.

"Georgie!" Behara shrieked.

The pair watched the dog come to a halt then start digging again digging his head into the dirt making a mountain of dirt that somewhat buried the dog handler up to her knees in such a impressive means. The pair approached Georgie then the old dog ran off with tongue hanging out and grinning having the time of his life digging up old skeletons on a really good day. 

Behara stumbled out of the pile with help then the trio loomed over the deep enclosed grave that involved a knife through a skull that had several gaping holes and a figure in tattered flower dress.  She gaped covering her mouth staring at the skeleton that wore a wig and fancy rings. She staggered back seeing Death staring back at her with very little care on what she walked in on. 

Behara turned away then ran after Georgie. 

"GEORGIE!" Behara shrieked. 

Lassiter drove up to the other side of the house. 

Henry was getting ready to go out and do some fishing hanging on longer than he normally would around Santa Barbara. 

Henry stopped in his tracks seeing the former head detective staring back at him wearing that familiar cold face so he dropped what he was holding in his hands seeing that guilty and long gaze in his eyes. It's all in the eyes, Henry had drilled it into Shawn hard as a kid when raising him from a mere talented and observant child to a walking operating and functional eccentric private detective. All the years that he spent not making it fun for Shawn using his gifts for various purposes had paid off in making a good man. 

Shawn was never going to be Jack and Henry had made sure of that up till the day that his son had vanished out of his life. His son was never going to turn out like his brother because of relentless and ruthless parenting that could be defined as cruel preparing him for a potential life ahead of him. A once living and innovative man except he was very immature that matured some but retained most of the immaturity. All of his years raising Shawn more as a single parent crossed his mind up till now. 

He did good raising Shawn, faults and all, the kid tugging him out of retirement, reminding him why he quit in the first place, enhanced chaos and all. 

And Shawn was gone leaving the wind and a enormous void in his life that would take some time going away. 

"Where is he?" Henry asked.

Lassiter lowered his gaze then up taking in a sharp inhale that was so difficult.

"At the beach? Desert? Buried underneath the foundations of a building that was once under construction? Tell me my son was buried at a farm that grows pineapple, he really loved them."

Lassiter approached the younger man letting go of the long breath then approached him and handed off the coordinates. 

Henry started at the slip of paper then up, his jaw going slack, his eye searching, standing there, after all these years... Taking a step back rubbing his face for a long moment facing it. He leaned against the fence then up facing the beat cop. 

"I drove past him." Henry said.  

Lassiter's nod was deeply pained. 

"We need some help tracking down the shooters."

"Can we get the person who did this?"

"That's a bit high up the totem pole." was the admission. "We can leave that bit to O'Hara." Clearing his throat that was difficult. "How would you feel if you helped me find the men who tried to kill me tomorrow?"

Henry folded his arms looking toward the younger man for a long moment thinking it over. He wasn't forty-eight year old but someone in his fifties. A small chunk of his life spent without Shawn. He had that stare about him. Older, now. 

"If I get to kill the bastard myself who killed my son, I'm in."

Lassiter faced him for a long moment thinking it over. 

"Can you compromise?" Lassiter asked. 

"Hurting him." Henry assumed. 

"Make him feel the pain that he dragged you through." Lassiter pointed out. "It pales in comparison to my pain."

Henry looked aside giving it some thought then lifted his head up ever so slightly. 

"That private detective can't be involved in any shape or form." Was the condition that was set. "This is a private citizen investigation. What he is good at is finding dead bodies.. and he is not needed anymore."

Lassiter carefully weighted the request before accepting the terms. 

"Deal." Lassiter replied. "He'll accept that."

"He is going to be there, isn't he."

"Just pointing out where the source of the shooting is." Lassiter answered. 

Henry rolled his eyes at the remark. 

"Forensics does that, its their thing," Henry reminded, sharply. "Detective Dipstick." 

Lassiter closed his eyes in response to the statement.

"Like from CSI, it's accurate, like from Forensics Files," Admiration was held for the show that had stuck around long and had some grounded basis except for the fast and speedy results. "they're good at it."

Lassiter's cold blue eyes opened facing the retired detective 

"Do you know how often that place gets shot up, Spencer?"

These were words that made the former detective have a lengthy moment of pause.

"No, I don't."

"Wires are easily crossed," Lassiter held his hand up then gave it a nice shake over the steely sharp and cold glare. "and believe me, I have heard enough reports about that neighborhood to be dead certain they will track the gun shots to the wrong house."

A small nod came from the former detective at the prospect. 

"But he has to be gone when  I come in." Henry said. 

Henry looked over toward the police cruiser, searchingly. 

"He is not with me, Spencer." Lassiter said, annoyed. 

"Then where is he?" Henry asked, curious. 

"He went home." Then Lassiter added. "I drove him back."

It was the time of night.

Stars twinkling above the crime scene that was below the tree line.

It would be a nice sight to be part of it weren't for police cars, officers speaking on their radios, a press gathering at the side with camera men in attendance, and cars parked along the shoulder of the road. Behara was being interviewed by a officer taking her statement. Her face visibly covered in dirt and her entire figure stained in dirt.

There were over five dozen holes made revealing the same miserable sight over and over which all of them seemed to be older than the most recent corpse that was roughly three years old. A brutal documentary of a serial killer's spree of murder that went unspoken but implied how often the crime was performed which wasn't all that often. O'Hara knelt down upon the skeleton that held the most significance to her then rested it on the small and smooth gray phalanges taking in a trembling breath. 

she can still feel him by her side providing much needed company even when he had stopped being there. He was still the light in her life that made things feel not terribly bleak, bright, light, and full of heart as her world descended into a harsh and gritty crime procedure that was prestige in nature. She could imagine him behind her looking at her shaking her head in disappointment. 

"Babe, stop pinning on a skeleton. You look freaky. I'm right here behind you."

"That is some heavy serial killer vibes right there."

"You got that right."

And the sound of fist bumps and laughter between Shawn and Gus. 

It's the old days that were helping her cope in a awful situation, it's like a part of Gus had died, too, when Shawn went missing, a chunk of him was out in the void and that was hideous. He'll get that back eventually just as she will when the grief of knowing Shawn Spencer was done. Something more heavier than anything in their entire lives that was difficult to get over. 

"Detective O'Hara." Trout replied. 

O'Hara got up to her feet then turned around and faced the one responsible for this horrific nightmare. 

"Did he happen to call you about a case that he was working on?" Trout asked. 

O'Hara approached the acting chief mayoral consultant quite fed up and offended. 

"Chief..."  O'Hara started. "You made it terribly clear that we couldn't work with him. We couldn't work together. And we still can't work with Gus because you banned us with working with the office. So why should I tell you anything about my personal relationship with my ex-fiance that isn't case related?"

Her words were brutal, sharp, professional, and best of all, full of venom that had the heat of rage. 

"The mayor isn't going to like this." Trout said as he gazed over toward the corpse 

"And why would it be that way?" O'Hara asked. 

Trout rubbed the back of his head gazing down taking a few steps forward. 

"Harris, what I am not seeing?"

"It's not a serial killer." Trout announced. 

O'Hara wore a frown at the comment. 

"It's a dumping ground." O'Hara stated.

"A burial ground for a criminal who hides corpses here often enough."

She looked toward the graveyards with her arms folded as the acting chief continued.

"He doesn't do it because he has the urge.... He does it because he has to." Trout analyzed the row of dead bodies that had gruesome ends without context. "Most of the time it is bullets. Sometimes it is a knife. And there are times when he uses something else to do the deed." He rested his hands on his hips. "This is a graveyard of virtually unheard screams, O'Hara."

"Explain to me in English why the mayor won't like this." O'Hara requested. 

Trout opened his mouth then closed it then opened it again and did it again with nary a sound to be heard. 

"He wouldn't be dead if I never banned him from the police department." Trout said, finally, bitterly. 

"You didn't kill him." O'Hara shot back. 

"It's still my fault, shut up and let me stew in a enormous problem of my making that's going to be impacting the police department quite dearly!" He had made a terrible mistake, truly awful one. "If he simply hadn't been so invested..."

Trout paced around rubbing his forehead shaking his head in annoyance.

"I didn't know he was so..." He tried to start a sentence but he kept failing. "into helping people.." clenching his hands as his trying of thought rushed on faster than he could keep up. "breaking rules..." He paused across from the corpse unable to look at in shame. "I thought..."

"Me too, at first." O'Hara's voice was soft 

Trout was plagued by guilt and regret and personal shame leading the police department into this position.

"Not helping..." Trout commented, sadly. "not helping."

"You're not the only one beating themselves over him!" O'Hara reminded, gently, but sharp. 

His eyes rested on the younger woman shaking his head in pity and sympathy for it was worse on him than her. 

"I have to attack myself harder and you know exactly why!" Shouting in anger and hurt that echoed in the air. "You said it yourself, detective!"

"What did you think he was in for consulting for in the first place?" O'Hara asked. 

"He was just in it for the fun of catching a perp." He flailed his hand into the air, upset, shaking his head. "I thought he was in for the fun!" Words that made her stop, flooded coldly. "Disregarding rules without consequence! It's wrong and it gets people killed after a time becoming this arrogant watching a suspect included!" He motioned toward the skeleton. "Myself, included!"

"And?" O'Hara asked. 

There was only one thing to do, take the blame, just like Vick, falling on his sword, to take attention off the rules that he set in place; a man was fucking dead.

"It is the best part," Then his voice began to yell. "but it has to be done right!"

Trout walked away from her lowering his head heading on toward the road.

"What are you going to do?" O'Hara asked. 

Trout came to a pause then sighed, adjusting his tie. 

"Disappoint my friend," Trout answered, over the flashing of blue and red against his face, gazing toward the press that was a distant white sparkling sea of light. "and admit my faults like a respectable officer."

Trout walked on ahead of the detective who turned around facing the corpse as she felt a disgusting amount of some respect grow for the man, enormous ego easy to hate be damned.

Chapter Text

"What is the first corpse we're taking?"

"We're taking it to Quantico, Virgina." was the reply by one of the FBI agents greeting the fellow agent. "The best forensic lab in the entire state that can hold all of the graves. We're going to need to excavate them in blocks."

The young attractive man with thick eyebrows faced him wearing a smile. 

"Is it the first one or one of the other ones?"

Edward Polelight was a fifty-eight year old black man who had a prosthetic left foot and a nice graying mustache, a bit on the heavy side due to his muscles, wearing a freaky eye patch. He was the definition of a a-lister put in a ordinary television show acting as a very special cameo that made him stand out against everyone in the entire cast. He looked one of your ordinary aged action heroes who retired and decided to be a working man with nothing exciting. 

"The first." Polelight replied, calmly, then frowned, "And who are you?"

"Robbins Bobbins Slobbins." Bobbins answered. 

Polelight lifted his hand proceeding to smile. 

"Bobbins," Polelight wore a big grin. "like Poppins."

"Yeah, like Mary Poppins," Bobbins agreed, nodding his head, grinning. "poppin' along and all, cleverly." Bobbins tipped his hat back at the older man "Heard the corpse is of great value of the Santa Barbara Police Department."

"Means a whole lot to them that we had to dig this sucker up in a block first,"

"Much like the rest, brr, I hate transporting skeletons!"

"Is it the part where it used to be a human being all that is left is what supported them."

"Their families tend to be very emotional."

"I'm talking about the skeleton."

"The muscles do all the supprt."

"The bone cradle them."

"We can agree to disagree about that. They're so delicate and easy to lose their place unlike ordinary stinky dead bodies!" Then he turned and aced him. "you remind me of someone that looks so dorky..."

Bobbins wore that grin paling notably. 

"Ashton Kushter!" Polelight exclaimed, taking out the clipboard then checked for a list of things. "Uh huh, knife, tattered jeans, plaid, missing finger, and a giant block of bones that need to be put into the ground where they belong so the dead can rest."

Bobbins looked to side facing no one in particular about the issue then faced Polelight. 

"Do you think that he's better off being buried down there?" 

"We don't know the body is a he. Might be a she." was the remark. "I'm not a anthropologist but those hips, girly, could be a girl, look at the buttocks," He motioned toward the frame that once outlined a but. "had to be thick and juicy butt in there," holding his hands like they were holding something. "with equally as big breasts."

Bobbins's eye twitches hearing ghostly laughter in his ear at the remark that was genuinely entertaining and it was genuinely not that quite entertaining with that ringing in his ears. 

"It's just that..." Bobbin stepped forward, slowly  approaching Polelight. 

"What?

"That knife is different from the rest."

"Doesn't have any blood on it." Polelight shrugged. "Nor is it fancy."

"It's important because there is something on it that we can't see with our naked eyes." Bobbins replied. 

Polelightt burst out laughing at the comment lowering his head resting his hands on his hips. The driver's his blue eyes lifted upon Bobbins.

"What do you see?"  Polelight questioned in a moment of amusement.

"I see finger prints."

Polelight's eyebrows pressed together puckering his lips then walked around the truck rushing to the back.

Curity took his flashlight and attacked ruthlessly, surprising him, getting a nice hold over the older man, striking his face multiple times then knocking him down, over a yelp, causing him to crumble into the ditch. His figure remaining there still but alive and groaning. Blood starting to seep into the grass leaving a nice terrible stain int here. 

Curity ran then hopped into the truck, started the vehicle, then drove away leaving him into the shoulder of the road far from prying eyes. Curity bounced his head along to a song that couldn't be heard humming to himself at a successful avoidance of being caught. 

Sometimes it paid to visit the old body dump and make sure there wasn't a police presence at least three times a day. He watched from afar as the bright golden view full of a crowd of lights faded into the background and drove on wearing a big grin 

He had successfully gotten away with it after realizing a terrible error. Could he have lived with the bodies being found if he had cleaned the handle? Yes, leaving them without any form of closure was the best feeling in the bit. What was even better than that while making up for a mistake was not allowing the dead to be recognized and buried six feet under surrounded by loved ones. His laughter carried in the air as he withdrew his phone and pressed it against his ear. 

"I'll be there in five minutes." Curity replied. "Get ready to turn this skeleton into some donation to some high school some where in the country where they will never look."

Fake psychic wasn't laughing now being treated as a educational tool, sure, they'll realize something was off, but dismiss it after awhile, filling in holes, repairing it, fixing it, then sending it off.  His wallet and necklace was going to be excellent trophies of what he had stolen and gotten away with yet again. 

Polelight from afar got up fifteen minutes after the fact staggering toward the  press.

The older man cradled his face that felt numb and at the same time stung. The worst ach in the entire world that bothered him. Persistent and annoying to the mind unable to see.

"That son of a stupid cow stole my damn van."

And he let him get away with it without remotely a fight.

Miserable failure on the side of the FBI agent who prided himself at being good at his job.

All his dreams do having up an attack by removing his prosthetic and attack in the line of escorting the dead to where they needed to be for the next line of proper burial.

He wasn't a good man or a bad man but man in between those two someone calling the bastard but he had a compass in there and that man busted it and he was going to kill him hell or high water.  If the weather was terrible just enough how to freeze overmaking it perfect for him to hunt him down in the Arctic weather.

"Bobbins stole my van!" Polelight repeated. "Bobbins stole my damn van!  Help! Help! Bobbins stole my van!"

He walked into the field of police cars then slumped into the crowd where he fell.

"Bobbins stole my damn van!"

There was gasping and people gazing down as cameras focused on him.

O'Hara rushed over into the crowd and checked for a pulse.

"Are you okay, sir?" O'Hara asked.

His mouth was moving as he whispered in pain squeezing his eyes shut in tears and personal shame.

"Bobbins stole my stupid van!" 

O'Hara bobbed up then looked on ahead, paling, gazing on ahead. Her mouth hanging open. A chilling moment staring in the direction of where her ex-fiance's remains was taken. Taken back at the strange development. 

There was no van to speak of. No evidence to speak of to collaborate that it was his remains.

Everything was in the block.

Vick was shaken awake by the sound of her phone ringing.

Her eyes opening facing the glowing screen of the phone vibrate against the counter. Ringing loudly that brought back memories being the chief of police in Santa Barbara. Late night calls resting her out of slumber and to a high profiled crime scene.

Ever since accepting the role as a police captain in San Francisco, she found a new sense of being less busy than being a police chief. People still found the time to pound her with files and meetings and she had very few moments of calm waiting for the silence to be pierced. Moments better suited for family.

She lifted from bed rubbing her forehead then picked the phone up and answered the phone.

"Captain Vick."

"Turn the TV on, Karen." Came the gruff voice over the phone.

She turned the light on beside her side of the bed.

"Who is this?" Vick asked.

"Third party being asked to call you."

Her eyebrows furrowed looking aside beneath the warm glow of the lamp. 

"Who's asking?" Vick asked.

"A bunch of chickens who don't want to be chewed out." Was all that the caller said.

"Who gave you my number?" Vick asked.

"Just put the news on." Was spoken in exasperation.

The caller hung up then she got up from the bed, put on her long sock slippers, including her robe, then walked out of the bedroom. She descended down the steps and hurried to the living room.

She turned the television on the beat down while still holding the phone in her hand waiting in case the anonymous caller called back.

"We strongly believe a well known consultant..."

"What consultant, chief trout?" One of the reporters inquired.

Trout paused looked aside then back rubbing his face looking so torn and guilty.

"The police department was made aware of a potential lead for a missing person's upon the persistent actions of a private investigator and a retired k-nine unit."

Vick leaned forward as her mouth hung there gaping open. 

"We have strong suspicions on who one of the deceased is among the deceased." Trout stated.

Her eyes darting back and forth as her heart leaped into her throat with a yelp as her mind flickered across what he had said only a moment ago.

"Further comment about our suspicions is grounds to disrupt the case."

"Who is it?" the crowd asked at once

"We have multiple corpses being up and prepared for identification. The FBI will be joining this case very shortly and taking over the scene. It is out of our hands. It is a federal matter. That is all."

The scene shrunk to a small box beside the news reporter on the screen.

"That was Chief Trout only last night after the discovery of a mass grave sight.. and shortly after, a transportation van with human remains was stolen. The FBI is currently offering a fifteen thousand dollar reward for it."

A face appeared on the screen. 

"If anyone has seen this man , currently calling himself Robbins Bobbins Slobbins, or met him, viewers are asked to call this number."

And the tip line was set there.

Lassiter was stirred awake in the middle of the night with his phone ring tone being Cops.

The sky was turning a better shade of gray-blue above his house and pale lighting poured into his bedroom. He combed though his graying dark brown hair heaving a tired sigh of rest that was interrupted beneath the pool of light cast upon the bed.

He slid up then picked the phone up, swiped it, and pressed it against his ear.

"Carlton Lassiter."

"Someone stole the corpse!" Words that took him off guard listening to her scream. "His skeleton! His useless remains!"

Lassiter rubbed his face as the emotional lashing of a furious scorned woman.

"Detective."

"This is a lot! He's gone and now he is double gone and there isn't anything to bury! He isn't even here and we can't rescue him and God knows what they intend to do with it! Turn it into dust? Throw it into the desert?"

Lassiter simply listened to the twirling of thoughts in the chaos that she was tugged right into by a heartless asshole criminal scumbag.

"Got any leads?" Lassiter asked, calmly.

"Someone called Robbins Bobbins." O'Hara answered.

"Bobbins." Lassiter repeated, tightly gripping the phone.

"He is mocking us for not having his name." O'Hara sounded mad, really mad. "I know he is. Laughing as he left making a clean get away! There's officers now making sure the other blocks gets to Virginia unimpeded."

"O'Hara, get some sleep " Lassiter ordered, annoyed, irritates, as if she was junior detective.

O'Hara had a sharp inhale.

"We found the van five minutes ago."

"And there is no remains." Lassiter assumed gazing on,.

"I want this nightmare to end." Her voice so heavily distraught it was awful.

He looked aside then back as his steely eyes gazed toward the window.

"It will be, " Lassiter replied,  gently. "you are just one day closer to it ending. I promise."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" O'Hara asked 

Lassiter paused staring at the empty chair then he imposed the familiar figure in the shadows with one leg crossed over a knee. Unable to see the expression on the shadowy figure. Silver lighting outlining the side of his frame. A familiar silhouette and hair that was iconic and memorable. Looking at him.

Haunted every day by a life he allowed to be stolen but it was getting better lately. 

"Every day." Lassiter had unwavering hope for a better tomorrow. His voice optimistic and full of unwavering faith. "O'Hara."

"I will.." Her voice softened.

The call ended then he plopped back to bed, dropping the phone, and closed his eyes taking back asleep. Peace and quiet. Something he hasn't had for awhile. Some peace.

Chapter Text

Dennis Gogolack couldn't sleep. 

He had reruns of Stargate SG-1 to attend to on Hulu. 

Hulu was quickly becoming that app that he could power up and watch his favorite shows of the century. Something that seemed so reliable and sticking around for a long time to come stretching on into eternity. One of the first things that he had done when it came to being someone who's tastes were fined and well smoothed out as a believer in the realm of aliens and wishing for such a incredible opportunity. 

He turned on to the news before going to Stargate SG-1. 

"We strongly believe a well known consultant..."

"What consultant, chief trout?"

Dennis leaned forward lowering the remote. 

"What did you get into now, Shawn?" Gogolack asked. 

He watched the man looking aside rubbing his face in a moment that seemed to be difficult giving life to a issue that needed to be spoken. So unimaginably difficult admitting something that wasn't clear. 

"The police department was made aware of a potential lead for a missing person's..."

"He's been missing?" Gogolack stood up to his feet heavily bewildered and his jaw fell agape.  

"...upon the persistent actions of a private investigator and a retired k-nine unit..."

Gogolack was shaking his head leaning back as the words were coming from the screen yet it felt like he had been part of a explosion that rocked the entire land. 

"We have strong suspicions on who one of the deceased is among the deceased."

He didn't realize he was screaming (and crying) until Molly entered the room and cradled him as his screams echoed through the living room. she looked over toward the screen as  the news kept on playing and she looked over toward the brilliant hacker. She cupped the side of his face gently cradling it in a moment of heartbreak and immense sorrow that had destroyed a damn. Anger, rage, and distress, a horrible set of ingredients between the wailing for a childhood friend who had been plucked quite unceremoniously from the land of the living and thrown aside once handled.  

He lowered his head on her shoulder, weeping. 

"It's Shawn!" 

Molly was soft and gentle to the man cradling him acting as his support keeping him there on the couch. 

"What happened to him, baby?"

A rock thrown directly into his heart and tore him apart bit by bit for a childhood friend who he could never see again in the flesh. 

"He's dead! He's dead! He's deeeaaaaaad!"

A long moment stretched on as Molly held on to him listening to his cries as the news reporters bobbled back and forth regarding who it could possibly be. There was only few consultants that had worked with the police department ever so recently. Shawn's name didn't come up in the slightest as if he didn't matter at all when he was one of the finest detectives (who followed the lead of the spirits) they knew. 

"If he was a psychic then how is he dead?" 

She clasped the side of his arms looking down upon the man who looked so heartbroken that it was so wrong. 

"Somethings just didn't become apparent, the spirits, they, they aren't upfront about his future, it's always about a crime, always."

"His murder was a crime itself." Molly reminded. 

Gogolack lowered his gaze wiping his sleeve as his sobbing lowered in the company of the hottest woman on the land of the living and stared at her for a long moment appreciating her. 

"... It's like they were done with him..." Gogolack put the nature of the cruelty up for display in a series of words with his voice broken and shattered and so hoarse from the crying at that degree. "and wanted him not to try to be able to confer with them for cases."

She rubbed his back listening to the rest of his sob hunched right over there for a long moment that stretched on seemingly for an eternity. 

"It's so messy and complicated." Molly noted. 

"Fits Shawn to a tea."  Gogolack replied.

Robert was painting in the middle of the night when he dropped the paint brush. 

He stared on toward the screen as it flickered across his gaze staring there dumbstruck at the news that played out as his face fell in a upsetting manner.

The world became disorienting for the man who had largely believe the missing psychic had quit and simply not told anyone after a time facing the difficulty of a reluctant assistant and a head detective who despised him. Trying to escort him off the scene as he had seen at least once that involved physical comical conflict like they were kids who were fighting over something incredible stupid. And yet, the scene was enough to make the artist simply smile seeing the psychic had gained weight and had in fact fought to plant his roots there through turmoil until seeing a missing person's post about him a couple years later.

He was wrong about everything that he had assumed. 

The world lost an enormous light that had flickered out long ago. 

Robert felt sad seeing the uneventful somber scene. 

"Liar." Robert accused, shaking his head, leaning back, skeptically.

Staring at the image of the police chief in the silence that felt more befitting staring at a murderer

"You know it's him."

He got up then went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet for a long time crying it all off his chest, small cries, his heart aching, clasping the side of his face.  Getting it all off his chest crying for the man. He genuinely liked the kid, he was so young, ripped away from the stage, alive and vibrant, psychic absurdity and all. 

The film 'Howl' played across the enormous screen with it's horror and gruesome scene that belonged to the genre of werewolves. 

An scene of awe of such incredible hideousness that was transpiring. Stewart Gimberly enjoyed the werewolf genre even more after the scare that his medical professional had put him through. A ding came from his phone then he lifted it up that had a message from a friend. 

Ducow: Hey, sorry about the psychic, sucks he's been dead all this time. 

Gimberly: what are you talking about?

Ducow: they found his remains and others in the forest outside the city,

Gimberly: is this verified?

Ducow: he's a well known consultant who's been MISSING. Someone stole his remains, crazy thing!

Ducow: it's insane, who would want to steal Shawn's skeleton?

Ducow: Does it got evidence?

Ducow: Wouldn't all that evidence be gone since he's...

Gimberly turned his phone off and stared at the screen as suddenly the world felt stranger, just less whimsical, a little less entertaining, a light that had been there willing to guide those out a nightmare had been clenched and shattered. He looked up tossing bits of popcorn into his mouth ignoring his friend's continued texts that were dinging one after the other that were guessing like an arm chair detective. 

No one was going to listen like Shawn did when another person found themselves at the whims of someone they trusted deluding them into something ridiculous and allowed themselves to be arrested for a crime they believed they committed. 

It just wasn't fair that the psychic couldn't help someone else anymore bringing some sanity into the situation and logic. 

Gimberly enjoyed the film finding a reason to smile. 

Adam Hornstock was in the middle of rewatching the classic era of Law and Order. 

A simple loud ding that drew his attention off the screen causing him to pause then saw text appeared on his phone.

dad: did you see this, Adam?

then he lifted it up and clicked on the link that read: Mystery well known consultant dead?

People were guessing in the comment section when it came to the identity of the murdered consultant who had brought everything to full circle and gave closure and freed innocent people from being swallowed into the justice system. There were a few that wrote: it was the psychic, wasn't it. That was rocking up in terms of likes gathering it by the dozens by each minute that passed yet it was lower than the other guesses. 

Adam's mind leaped directly into the man who had shaped him for the rest of his career that was loud and quite incredible that had no shortage in sight of clients who wanted his service. He had the respect of his family, he had the respect of his wife, he had the respect the court of law, and he had his own self respect and confident hat had been forged and welded by the aid of a thin psychic. 

His hand was trembling holding the phone there staring at the news  clip that had been assembled off the bat and planted on YouTube. He swallowed, hard, leaning forward, clasping the phone, remembering, painfully, a man who had all the help for him didn't have any in his last moments. No one was there to have his back and that was the bitter part of the entire situation. Where was Gus at the time of the murder? How was he doing?

Knowing those two were close made it sense that things weren't the same for the pharmaceutical salesman who blamed himself hard, what kind of evidence did they have that proved in fact that it was a well known consultant? His phone, probably, found buried, beside him, remaining there, beneath the dirt, and dug up, with the brand of Psych on the back, just a empty skeleton staring back being greeted by people who had full attention on him in a different context and there was no more psychic readings to have or demonstrate. The spirits had taxed and tired the psychic out until he couldn't be useful anymore. 

His mind swirling with thoughts then gave a thumbs up. 

Dad: what can we do for his friend?

He looked look giving it thought about what the psychic deserved.

Adam: Defend one of Shawn's loved ones or him after one of them kills the one responsible. 

Chapter Text

That damn reoccurring nightmare from over a year ago happened, again.

Shawn's leg weighed down by a iron cuff that had nightmarishly grown into his leg becoming part of the bone, like the body swallowing the iron cuffs itself (not the restraints themselves), hungry for attachment, like it was attaching itself to a new limb, and a heavy weight holding him back. Had to be something painful and throbbing making a recipe for a painful visit to the hospital for treatment. Just as the guilt holding Gus back for not answering the phone. 

The pale gold lighting that felt nauseous in the dusty room and rearranging a few things then opening a door and sending the stuff back down with a loud crash. Shawn's familiar face appearing wearing a brief concerned look. Gazing down discerning for damage or inconvenience. Then that familiar innocent and amused grin. 

"Shawn!"

Gus awoke that morning with another text message from Charlene that dinged beside him as he cried smacking his fist on the bed and screamed in anger and anguish.

Then rocked himself back and forth resting his hands in his face crying there early in the morning resting his head on his knees and his shoulders all so trembling in the emotional bloodbath.

A part of him wished that Shawn was still here so badly that it summoned an old dream and it ripped open the band aid from yesterday and his pillow was still stained in his tears.

Spending time with her after being dropped off by Lassiter to his house really opened his eyes to how unprepared that she was to be his support rather than the other way around. It was deeply awkward between them not knowing what to say in the middle of Gus's emotional cataclysm. She was at a loss what to say or do. Who knew how to deal with Burton Guster at his most emotional days? Shawn did and he wasn't there to come in and support him.

Of course she left like a cat that didn't know what to do when something off was happening and got scared. In the most affectionate sense, not the negative way, Gus knew her best, too well.. She really hadn't thought about emotional side of the package known as Burton Guster. Or had any heads up when it came to his emotional well being to be made aware of and how to deal with it like a fish out of its zone.

Because Shawn was simply not there to help to lend some advice to the new union while in the middle of domestic life with O'Hara.

Charlene was sending apology texts and it was dinging his phone leaving him in a field of annoyance needing to his brain this early in the morning in his emotional ruins. Cranky.

Asking him if he was still okay. How was he doing. Was he going to be okay? Did he need her? The kids were worried about him.  

This brush with the sudden onslaught of his emotional tsunami had faded and coming around to the fact that he wasn't like most men.

He needed her support just as much. If she wanted someone to support her kids in a time like that then she had to support him. Good men like Gus were hard to find. Last night had showed what a really manly man was, emotional, supportive, and well put together, he was the best that she could find and she was the best that he could find. He knew her well enough to read into her. She had accepted the terms and conditions after some time alone dealing in the emotional bloodbath. 

His phone rang then he answered it. 

"Burton Guster, representative of Pacific Nutraceutical Products, how can I help?"

There was a long pause over the line for a moment as Gus waited for an answer. 

"Guster," It was Henry, his voice sounded hoarse, tired, and just emotional exhausted. 

"Mr Spencer." Guster greeted. 

Henry cleared his throat over the line for a very long moment then sighed. 

"Someone stole his remains." Henry replied. 

"When?"

"Last night."

"Who?"

"Some guy called Robbins Bobbins."

"Why? Is it for some Halloween shit? That name is weird and right up some shady business that does exactly what Shawn wants." Gus was talking on and on and on. "Is it part of Shawn's will? Shawn is... was... more than up for mischief, I know, he would like that, one last time, before he got buried."

Henry was laughing on the other end of the line at the commentary delivered by the pharmaceutical salesman. 

"Only a twisted heartless killer would do that." Henry answered.

"It was stolen directly from the crime scene." Gus leaned back at the news as he acknowledged it.

"Damn straight," Henry was so outraged it was hard to imagine it but it was present in his voice just how exhausted he was about this ordeal that blew up his morning.

"That game is going to end eventually and he isn't going to have fun facing really unhappy people aiming guns at him." Gus reflected.

There was a heavy pause between them in the most outraging morning to date as if  a dragon was so full of fire and just blew out smoke in the dark and empty chamber that once held it's treasure, in the emptyiness of a grand cave, the only company being dripping water, darkness, walls, and sorrow at a horrible loss. Not knowing what to do or who had stolen the great treasure. 

"I think you..." Henry was stumbling over his words. "if  we had that corpse," Another sigh was exhaled. "he would want us to do something really nasty and run some form of a con where we scared him out of his mind."

Gus was frowning so hard at the idea looking aside. 

"That's cruel, even if the guy responsible for the stealing killed Shawn in the first place." Gus was appalled by the mere idea. "A human sized puppet in Shawn's image? Have some heart."

"Animatronic rebuilt after the wax image." was the reply.

"We're not that far in technology, Mr Spencer." Gus was annoyed shaking his head lowering his gaze and rubbed his face. He was out of his damn mind talking about this!

They were all out of their minds in this horrible no good awful week that dredged up their hearts.

"Not if you use speakers and make him think he's possessing an inanimate object." Henry replied.

Gus was quiet for a moment reconsidering the idea of the night of horror and psychological terror. 

"Shawn did that to me once." Gus recalled, fondly, warmly, and sadly. "The idea of doing something worse than that to a guy who deserves it..." Gus swallowed, hard, lowering his head, remembering their exchange about it, looking aside. "Tell me that his name came up with a address."

"It's a alias that has no real name attached to it, that's all I got from an old contact in the FBI." Gus leaned forward, frowning, intrigued, starting to open his mouth. "I met a guy over the last three years, I helped out, did a favor, solved a case, and he offered, did some searching, really hard searching." Henry reflected over the entire arrangement that Thad occurred. "Told me if he can't find him then..."

Gus rubbed his face for a moment then nodded in the quiet that hung there in his room. 

"Did this alias get used in cases?" Gus asked.

"Some that he can't talk about." Henry answered. "See you at the scene later today."

Gus swiped through the screen until he met Charlene's contact and tapped on it then pressed it against his ear. 

"Charlene Charlamagne." Charlene answered, cheerfully. 

Gus smiled looking aside at the sound of her sweet force that made the nightmarish aspects of this week simply fade away and pause in the middle of chaos within the moment. 

"I'm okay, Charlene." Gus said. 

Chapter Text

Vick was in the middle of a meeting involving the police department on an vital case hunting down a fugitive.

"Mr Spencer, get out of this department before I make you be hauled out."

"Chief, non-involvement in this case."

Everyone gazed toward the young man in his early thirties.

"Don't see any reason why not to barge in if not to beg for your old job back."

Shawn shook his head only able to get out a quick no and a shake of his hands.

"Where's Guster? Don't tell me.." Lassiter was chewing gum leaning back resting is his boots on a empty chair looking so thrilled in the first scheme of things, being rid of someone very annoying and turning them off from any other department. He was essentially blacklisted nation wide. "he see this visit as useless as it is?"

Shawn just stared at the entire department of wearing a knowing look on his face. As if he knew something they did not. Wearing the heaviest expression that had news that he couldn't say.

Shawn lowered his head then lifted it facing O'Hara's concern then pressed his finger along the side of his temple toning out the vision that flickered across his mind. A simple annoying buzz kill one that he could stand through. He lowered his hand gazing on toward them pressing his back against the pillar.

Staring at the ruins of a unfortunate aftermath of something awful that is set to happen and everyone's faces were going to be so.. sad, angry, and broken. And there was nothing he could do to avoid it leaving them in he aftermath searching for clues.

"Tomorrow at seven thirty, I don't know where, I have no idea how, but I am going to open a bomb and it is going to blow up in my face."

Lassiter rolled his eyes looking inside then back facing him.

"Another life changing event, you mean." Lassiter's voice was marked by so much irritation and amusement wearing a smile and so smug.

Then again he had just finally got rid of him from throwing his life into the jaws of danger. Not having to be breaking limit to a suspect place to stop a life of threatening event. Really took a load off his shoulders. Could he blame the detective? No, not really. 

"I won't be there to help you." Shawn continued.

"Mr Spencer, get out of this department." Vick ordered.

"The only thing I can tell you is that the box reads Robert Homer Alwayshazoon.  Write it down," smacking the palm of his hand with persistence. "you will need it."

O'Hara cradled the side of her face rolling her eyes as Buzz jotted it down.

"It looks simple."

"How big is it?"

"Big as a box for a new battery powered lawn mower."

"What color?"

"Brown."

"Heavy or it is light?"

"It's pretty heavy." Their eyes darted back and forth at the strange exchange. "Taped up with no strings attached. It is an Amazon box. It has a stain in the corner. It is.. smelled.. like.. cow shit and.."

He covered his light turning away taking ina inhale at the terrifying vision.

"I have had this vision daily for the last year and I didn't say anything until today because..."

"You finally got a date for it." O'Hara observed.

"Right in the middle of job hunting." Shawn replied.

"Spencer, cease the theatrics." Lassiter requested.

"Detective Lassiter, my routine is going into a forest and think then after an hour I will come back to the office and continue job hunting."

Lassiter furrowed his eyebrow facing him quite genuinely startled .

"Is that a request to talk after work?" Lassiter asked.

"I.." Shawn started.

His jaw hanging open not knowing what to say looking back and forth among the crowd staring at him.

"He is pulling your leg." O'Hara dismissed turning away.

"after tonight...." He lowered his gaze then up facing the familiar welcoming crowd. "I can't talk to either of you."

Vick stared as her mouth slightly opened.

"and I have no idea if I ever will be able to ever again."

His comment hung there in the air.

"I don't get a vision for what happens after that." Taking a few steps back looking back and forth then smacking his hands together starting to smile just talking about his much it bothered him. "It.."

Looking at them all was so different knowing the avalanche incoming.

"it is like a night terror your walk with... that attacks you do suddenly."

"Like a dog attack." Lassiter piped up.

"A dog attack you see coming, Detective Lassiter." Shawn replied, glaringly. "This.." clasping his hands together in front of his lips for a moment then lowered them shaking his head. "not so much "

Shawn got it all off his chest facing them, apologetically.

Then he turned away and walked off from them feeling emotionally drained from the big moment. A moment that was had to walk away from in the silence taking out the humor and taking it along. You can't fight fate. 

Psych was packing up and Gus was still paying the bills. Packing up as in Shawn came to terms that then his business was over. Things were being packed in boxes the department didn't know that bit. File cabinets full of old cases slated for storage whee the personal information would be safely protected. No one but Gus and Shawn knew this kernel of knowledge.

Buzz chased after the psychic stopping him outside the doors.

"Are you investigating anyone?" Buzz asked 

Shawn paused then turned and faced him in the silence between them.

"You stopped trusting me after Lassiter revealed that my performances weren't fake."

"There is a thing about hiring psychics that this department holds dear."

"Yeah, yeah, don't hire them, bad news, hard to compensate," his voice was so bitter, hands on his hips. Lowering his head so disappointed. Gazing on ahead toward the parking lot of the department. "fake psychics are mediums and preferred."

Buzz stopped Shawn from walking away grabbing his arm.

"Shawn..."

"We dried up."

"You haven't had any clients."

"Do you all honestly think I would have a job anymore after being branded a liar in the press?".He looked at Buzz in disgust then a big laugh. "You hold me that high in regard?"

The young man looked so wounded even as his laughter was full of bitterness and amusement.

"I guess... " A sweet guy who don't know how else to say his admiration. "You.. you always bounced back on your feet when the department didn't hire you for the week."

Shawn laughed again stepping back then turned away but that iron clad grip stopped him.

"Is there anyone you made mad?' Buzz asked 

"It has occurred to me that it could be a fake name.." Shawn admitted.

"And any enemies come to mind?" Buzz prodded 

"I can't help you anymore." Was the reminder. "Drained that too."

"Does Gus know about it?'

Shawn stared at Buzz for a long moment.

"The scary part is I thought it was spam." Shawn admitted.

"You got a folder for that in the spirit realm." Buzz assumed.

"I call it voice mail that I delete routinely." Then he shrugged. "Useless vision like the rest."

"So there are others." The. Buzz added. "Were..are.. is."

"Forgettable ones "

"There might be some that are connected to your vision."

Shawn looked up toward his friend. For a moment thinking then rested his hand on the young man's arm and smiled.

"Buzz, you are a good man."

"Geeze, Shawn, I.. you could..."

Buzz let go of the psychic's arm.

"We don't got time to run a investigation," Shawn confessed. "it's..."

Buzz rested a hand on Shawn's shoulder seeing fear and anger in those hazel sharp eyes.

"We all make mistakes." Buzz said.

"it,it's too short.." he looked aside then back gazing at the motorcycle. "not enough time to take Gus on one last case."

Shawn descended down the steps walking on toward the motorcycle that he proceeded to run after, watched by Buzz, put on the helm, then faced the department for what he surely believed to be the last time. It made his heart ache walking into tomorrow and terrified him. No leads to chase after. No crime scene. Nobody to investigate.

Never mind about all that. There was another investigation unrelated to his current problem that needed his complete attention and tending. People needed him before he sank down into anxiety and panicked. Hard. He needed to have some fun and relax before..

No, Gus would hang up if Shawn didn't have a case.

Well. He might not hang up if being told they were going to be rewatching movies tonight and bringing snacks.

He wanted to have one last good night before pain and darkness became so much familiar to his mind.

Shawn drove on from the police department as Lassiter opened the door gazing on toward Buzz.

Chapter Text

Being in the office back there again wasn't the same.

Trout staring on the office showing that various achievements that his long time friend had gone through over the years. A world where they both had it easy climbing to the top of their respective field stopping short of the highest offices of the land which was attorney general and president.

He looked aside then back waiting patiently for the morning event to happen.

The door behind him opened drawing his immediate attention turning away from the desk.

The mayor faced him wearing that reassuring and charming smile that was as optimistic and professional as it was the first time around. The charming face of the younger man by a few years who retained his youth.  Dark hair, short build, face of a charming piece of a ham,  and the voice that sounded similar to a Disney movie character. Sharply dressed with a purple clashing vest to boot with a dangling gold watch. He looked on the tip of bliss weaving his way through life in perpetual tranquility 

"It is good to see you again, Harris."

Trout got up (feeling guilty about letting him down and) yet equally happy to see him the most after the night that he had only a few short hours ago.

"Likewise, Jared." Trout responded taking his hand then gave it a good shake.

"You are not on the phone with your mother." Jared was taken back as his jaw fell slightly as his eyes gazed searchingly back at him. "It's that serious." 

"She isn't on the phone with me all the time." Trout insisted, folding his arms with a shake of his head. "It is just one hour a day."

"Feels constant when visiting at the department, Harris." Jared joked. 

"Your timing is bad, Jared." Trout replied. 

"Bad scheduling that my team does but it does let me see everyone unprepared." Was the remark of the mayor lifting his eyebrows smugly with the twinkle of a mischievous gaze then became serious.. "You're quitting over the remains."

"A man is dead because of my clean up act."

Jared laughed gesturing back toward his chest upon the reply quite tickled leaning over then paced around the room as his laughter boomed through the office. 

"That's really funny," His pitch raised throwing his head back. "blaming yourself for a murder!" Harsh while ridiculing him. "I would love to say that I did not expected this but the deaths of unfortunate people and taking the heat is just so common for you!"

"This is different!" Trout shot back 

"Not that different, buddy." Jared dismissed. 

"My actions directly lead to his death." Trout argued back. 

"Your ego and good heart and terrible demeanor around others fates is really is hysterical!" He opened the bottle of scotch then poured a drink for himself and Trout.  "Who is the potential victim?"

Trout sipped from the cup over the smile of the mayor then set it on to the desk. 

"That psychic who consulted awhile back for the department." Trout replied. 

Jared's face fell in response to the remark seating himself into the chair across from trout. 

"You don't mean..." Trout nodded gravely looking toward the window losing all the tinges of warmth and amusement as if that bit of news was believable. "that man of chaos..." his eyebrows pressed together. "Shawn Spencer?"

"Psych's going to be closed and out of business forever after his remains are found." Trout said, distastefully.

Jared got up taking the glass with him then looked out the window  marveling over the unique character who always cheated death time and time again. Appearing on the news and making waves through the community that he best thrived in, politicians, doing favors, riling up associates during cases, and a whole lot of things. Jared took another sip then swayed the contents of the glass gently. 

"Shawn Spencer..." Jared repeated. 

And now there was so much potential that the man behind the name was never going to make chaos like that ever again, he was a nice guy, kind, the guy who gave people chances, and if he knew Trout just a much as he did, he would lend a hand over the case and make things right. Behind him Trout combed through his hair lowering his head quite distraught over the issue leaning against the wall. 

"My rules with  no exception, none, absolute none, and everyone hates me." Trout replied. 

Trout turned away facing him as he opened his mouth glaring back at his direction proceeding to protest.

"You  did really good work clearing it up." Jared watched him sit down into the chair. "And you are simply exaggerating."

Trout looked up toward Jared very skeptical of the reply and take another sip of scotch.

"This is not the kind of guy you make a morbid joke such as this in a place like this." A bitter comment made of regret. "A joke made in a interrogation room taunting that beat cop three years ago if we made it a critical missing case. Feel a really terrible interrogation would've happened then."

"Were the remains identified last night?"Jared asked. 

"Never got the chance to make it official."

"Then he is not dead."

"His fashion is unmistakable." He leaned forward clashing his hands together looking on into the void darkly. "What was left of it... anyway."

"Harris." Jared called, gently. 

Trout lifted his gaze up toward his long time friend.

"Just because that guilt is in your mind of potentially being responsible for the endangerment of a former consultant... " then he opted to remind. "He is still missing." Trout watched him return to the other side of the desk. "Doesn't mean you can't make up for it."

"Death can never be made up for." Trout's words were harsh. 

Jared looked really kind in the face of guilt upon his old friend.

"He might not be dead." Jared argued back. 

"That fashion."

"Fashion is for losers," Another sip of scotch then a sigh facing Trout. "people have the same style sometimes, doppelgangers, dress alike, wear the same jewelry, without DNA evidence, all the assumption might be a whole thing of nothingburger. Who are we for certain it is Shawn Spencer?" Facing him in a hard moment taking the subject seriously. "Do we have any witnesses who saw him die and the body dumped there."

"We didn't find his phone."

"Then.." Jared proceeded. "it is.." Slowly, clasping his hands together, sighing, then turned back toward his friend, his elbows resting on the edge of the chair. "not him."

"No witnesses saw him die or get dumped."

Jared watched Trout take a sip of the scotch. 

"Again... as I keep saying," Jared was one who faced someone facing a grim reality, in a way trying his best in a muddy situation to keep his friend from taking it hard and sinking. Something to believe in the dark. "Shawn Spencer is alive and well out there being a chaotic pain in the ass."

"Where do you think he is?" Trout tasked, curious. "Being this absent, this long, with no calls to anyone, even to his assistant."

Jared lifted the plague that read Jared Thomas Machowski then set it on to the table wearing a reassuring and nice smirk. 

"He might be held off somewhere, like a well stocked underground bunker or in a old house in the woods far from civilization that is a terrible cliche or he could be on a neighborhood held prisoner and there is still chances he is still alive and can be saved and this entire guilt can be salvaged off your little golden head." He leaned forward then pride off a piece of hair from Trout's head. 

Trout yelped then leaned back and scowled back at the eccentric mayor.

"Yeah, yeah," He took another sip of the scotch then up facing his long time friend. "I would believe that if he had found a way to land a call to the people that care and love him. He hasn't."

"He might not be allowed to have a phone." Jared answered

"Shawn Spencer has stolen plenty of phones to make calls. Again." Trout reminded him. "He always does."

Jared turned away with his eyes facing his long time friend in the argument that was proceeding between them, one full of hope and the other who was quite in the bottom of despair and guilt. 

"I heard he displaces.. displaced... his phone, multiple times." then Jared continued on the line of thought. "Not entirely out of the realm of possibilities," so optimistic and hopeful as he looked over toward a picture of his husband and two little boys surrounding their big St Bernard. "He might have a impressive collection of movies and TV shows, routinely replaced once damaging them, by the person who has him, and one day there is going to be a big slip."

There was a big silence between hem.

"And I'm not letting you quit,"

"But it's going to be hostile!" Trout complained, shaking his head while swaying the glass. "Everyone looking at me like I killed their favorite dog and kicked it for extra measure."

"Who assumes it's Shawn?" Jared asked, intrigued.

"O'Hara, Lassiter, a few other people in those two's social group," Trout took note of it. "probably includes the assistant."

"As I was saying," he held up a finger. "Until this investigation is over, then, and only then, will I entertain the idea that Shawn Spencer is dead and my dear best friend is to blame," lifting his head up facing Trout. "do we want to deal with the fall out of this over scotch?"

"No." Trout admitted.

Jared leaned back wearing a smile that was sooth and kind and arrogant as Trout's ego once was.

"And now you speak my tune." Jared was immensely pleased.

"How's the boys doing, Tommy?" Trout asked.

"We had to bury Miss Kitty yesterday, the one with the one eye and was a tripod, yeah, that senior cat." his face became quite ugly reflecting over the cat that had a terrible descent and the children becoming sad over the issue, even made his husband weep, insisting that after their St Bernard they were getting a dog with long cordy hair like the dog from the little mermaid. "The boys want to rescue another stray cat in her honor."

"They got the right idea." Trout noted.

"Urgh," Jared whined then planting his face on the desk. "that's gonna take foreeevveeer."

"Have you tried opening them to the idea of the shelter." Trout offered an idea.

Jared lifted his head up quite miserably facing the man puckering his lips.

"I have and they said that's where all the old cats are."

Chapter Text

Lassiter decided to turn the hot water on for the shower. A choice born out of a desire to shower well for that peculiar day. It wasn't cold around him as it has been so ages ago. It felt warm and nice as if life was lit up. As if someone had lit a match up in the dark and the heat thawed out all the ice including humor and eccentric parts of his life coming back out of its frozen positions.

He showered on the warmth that had to be shared to believe. His life was still a bit chilly but things were looking up. Marlowe had a chance of waking up to him and their child that had health issues. A child that didn't have great health after birth but at least they had each other. A nice soapy wash with a pine apple smelling hand soap favoring over the peaches container.

Combed his hair, did some shaving, dried off, then dressed for the job, it felt different, softer, gentler, more colorful.

He was excited to tell Marlowe what happened today after the events transpired and he generally expected them to be chaotic. 

For the first time in three years things were different. Exciting more than it had been and things were in motion. 

For the first time in three years he was excited for what was going to happen on the job. 

O'Hara sat on the side of the bed rubbing where Shawn had once rested looking over toward the direction of that familiar face greeting her with a smile and a kiss leaning forward.

If she had known how many of these fleeting moments were dwindling... She had unknowingly... if she knew... if she only knew how much time that she had left with him then she wouldn't have broke up with him and shunned him so hard. Welding the scorn of being lied to. Welding the scorn of someone who had so much more time to spend around him and hate it with every fiber of her being. The pain and rage of her idiocy inflicted harm to her mind over the last three years of such little time they had together as  a couple that could've been more if she accepted that he was a psychic and learned to bend.

She felt nothing seated there on the edge of the bed compared to three years ago where she grabbed his pillow after the first month and wept. A simple parchment of wet soggy paper that was old and simply falling apart holding no real value since the incident was over, she knew what happened to him, she knew how it happened, she knew him for being the master of chaos, she had read the skeleton.

There was only silence and a void that Shawn would be best suited for leaning forward whispering sweet nothings in her ear and some of it laced in popular culture references.

The complete and utter devastation of losing the sun that was so animated and chaotic that acted as a moon with the differing personas that he had, the chaos, the immature nerd, and then the straight man. 

It's like she had lost several slices of him in one night knowing now it was over. 

If she only bugged him about his current case work and been there in the first place. 

She clenched her hand on the sheet then looked aside thinking it over discarding the aching regret. 

A big hug sigh was dropped as she set up then adjusted her suit, went to the closet, withdrew shoes that didn't have heels, remembering Shawn's sharp remarks, 'really, running in high heels?'

She closed her eyes remembering the tirade that he had about them whenever he saw those heels.

"After how many years? Why do you want to hurt yourself that badly, Jules? Do you know how many crime scenes there are where the victim never made it because of those high heels?"

His words were sharp as thorns yet full of amusement and affection knowing it was a fight that was never going to done with, a endless battle, between a concerned partner, and her desire to be pretty on the job, he had made fair points, as had Lassiter, taking one look at her shoes and going 'Why do you want to lose a suspect on the run?'

She wiped a tear off with the edge of her sleeve at the old comment the former head detective had made over nine years ago. If the reveal was made on the tenth anniversary of his disappearance... A simple explosion in her soul and mind as she realized she was getting older without him at the mere idea projecting in her mind. She was thirty-six. And for some reason it felt right learning now he was gone only three years later. Her heart was willing and capable of dealing with it.

If she could make five years without him, as she had the last three years, mourning him, yearning for him, being the strong and capable woman that she was, she could make it a lifetime, her head held high, a better detective, a better woman, and a better friend than she was before. 

She got up from the bed then went to the same diner where she first met Shawn for breakfast. 

Ordering pancakes, eggs, and bacon, alongside the stool where he once sat beside her. 

Visiting old stomping grounds nostalgically.

Hope is a powerful thing in the world of Harris Trout. It helped him move forward in his career and rebuilding police departments making them better, more efficient, more capable, less of a clown show, but a different kind of eccentric clown show that was able to be swallowed whole by the city with the flaws that were left behind. He was the one called a money maker when it came to saving them money and making a lot of it that left the police department raking in the benefits of his relationships in the entertainment business even when it came to those who support the various department.

Hope is a strange thing to talk about in a world that had it's darkness but wore the brightness clear with humor and bleakness, there were eccentric characters that made up murders in his field of work. Hope is a thing that isn't  subject or a item but a thing clasped to the mind of those who weld it like a weapon as did survivors of assault in the various forms that came with bruises, scratches, clenching their teeth clenching them they were fangs showing their intent to stand, hands raised high, locked into position, messy, torn articles of clothing, and the weapon itself that was in their hands was hope that made of iron in the face of uncertainty. Hope is a shield for the mind against despair and keep it thriving. 

Hope is a thing that keeps all things living until they couldn't, when in the warm arms of hope, secure, relaxing, it happened, letting go, knowing they were safe. 

Trout had it happen once when he walked into a house in the middle of a case, it was bloody, gruesome, kidnapping victim, drugged, psychologically harmed, beaten, tormented, clinging to the sliver lining of hope that light would cast upon her face and he wouldn't be there.

Responding detective on the scene that was delegated by another detective who was consulting with the department at the time.

He remembered how it felt the victim taking her final breath wrapped in a blanket pressed against his chest and then the murderer was set for jail for more than one lifetime. 

He wished some days that murderer got slain by his bullet, that he rose up, aimed the gun, and put the sorry bastard out of his misery, but he was better than that. He loved to brag about taking charge in how things went down perhaps exaggerating how things went. Incidents that fed his ego in the bitterness of the justice system acting as the iron thing that kept the law in working order.

The last two departments that he oversaw had egos that needed smacked and destroyed then rebuilt to a level where their heads were level and realistic. Messy affair in all. 

He loved firing people, demoting them, it was his favorite thing to do, the perk of being chief, but the worst part about being chief is the part where his decisions came back and impaled him in the head metaphorically. How could he continue his previous activities knowing a man was suffering because of his decisions? In the meatball of crime that grinding and crushed and harmed the body and soul. He couldn't save them and even if he was still alive, would his soul be still the same? The carefree young man who lived in a dramedy? 

"Detective O'Hara."

O'Hara turned her attention toward the chief. 

"Who managed the tip line?"

"The FBI."

"No, the other tip line."

'We don't use that anymore."

"Since when?" Trout asked, leaning against the desk. 

His eyes were scrutinizing her to the very atom. 

"Shawn came aboard." She remembered the familiar sight of someone in a small office waiting for a call that became less seen as time wore on then it was seemingly phased put. "We stopped using it around that time." 

His eyes shot aside for a moment then faced her. 

"That's very informative." Trout replied. 

She furrowed her eyebrows for a moment turning toward him. 

"We don't need that," was her reply.

"And maybe we do now."

"Finding a block of skeleton and faded clothing."

"Have to hope that this Bobbins character has one or more people around him who have good hearts." was the reply.

"We got crime stoppers who run this thing," O'Hara changed her tune quite fast from there at the idea. "it's fairly recent."

"How recent are we talking about that hasn't been told me in the last three years."

"they do that," stumbling over her words trying to think off the top of her head looking up. "it's," thinking long and hard. "been," tapping her fingers on the desk. "what," looking over toward the expression of intent on his face. "a few years,"

"Define a few years, Detective O'Hara." Trout replied.

"Five years, six, I guess." She had another shrug. "The local news station," She had a sigh then sip from her mug of coffee and set it down onto the desk. "it's a whole thing," she held up her hands swaying them from side to side. "and trust me.."

"I do trust you on this matter, detective." Trout replied.

O'Hara rested her hands on the desk facing the captain.

"No one is calling us about that," then grimaced before adding, reminding him, almost exasperated. "it's the FBI's thing. No, if you excuse me, I have to run some calls on a case..."

He thought it over thoughtfully looking aside as her trail of words mattered little then leaned back as a idea burned into his mind proving once and or all whether or not the fake psychic was dead that made it all undoubtful for Jared to get him continue to be in the office. He didn't see any form of redemption headed his way in the world of consequences, the halls were dark, broken, gothic, and decorations hidden in the shadows that were fancy and elegant.  

His brilliant sapphire blue eyes were full of thought considering the stunt that had to be pulled that day that would require calling the local news station. All it took was going to be a call from Robbins Bobbins Slobbins himself clearing up the matter that the man was dead... or very alive. An ide athat held so much power that was handed off to him by a dear friend that lit up he entire world. 

Trout started to smile then began to laugh unnerving the detective. 

"Sir?" O'Hara asked. 

It was brilliant enough to give him some closure. 

"Nothing, nothing of importance." Trout laughed shaking his hand. 

He went back inside the office then withdrew the phone and sat down into the chair proceeding to make the first call setting jump his secured and well intentionded downfall. 

If redemption was this in response to a life being gone then all men who had hands in murder should do this without a argument doing the right thing in outing the truth, courtesy of Harris Trout. A quote that didn't really exist by famous people but by a man with a ego.

Making things right was the best way to walk into the hallways of redemption with the biggest ego.

Gus felt young again.

Deliriously and absurdly young again lacking the tethers that held him back and the weight of not knowing was freed from him as if the chains were unlocked and the chains fell off his soup. 

Young and full of life with his entire future ahead of him on a wonderful career and charming girlfriend who was winning her way into his heart.

He felt like that kid who's old life was interrupted by Shawn again and made him miss hours worth of routes on investigations. A kid who slowly became confident that nothing awful was going to fall if he skipped out of work and went to a crime scene immediately after clocking in. A welcome breath of fresh air in the dreariness of life that had constricted around him in the cold and darkness in his personal life. He felt like an entirely different man opting to shave his facial hair until he looked like he was trying to grow a nice beard but it looked like a goatee. 

He looked older that made his once youthful eyes look older. Rubbing his face and stared at it seeing the man that was able to step into the now growing older without Shawn. Shawn could've come around to growing a beard by this point, but the idea was a flickering flame that died out as Shawn was barely interested in growing a beard. If he let his facial hair grow out then he could possibly have a nice goatee by the next month that rolled around.  He rubbed his face until deciding on the nice and thin stylish goatee that looked rather fine on him. 

Gus looked at the man that was sharp contrast to the man that he once was, not young, but older, he looked the age, but he wore the eyes of someone who had youth on their mind and side. 

He had a decent breakfast that consisted of cereal and a pill that helped in being lactose intolerant.

He deserved a nice rib at the end of the day investigating something was potentially related to Shawn's murder. He honestly didn't have to go to the scene of the shooting, even though it was expected of him to.

(now, he had closure, Shawn was dead, the body was stolen, Shawn had been the victim of a crime).

But he owed it to himself to go and see the end of the case that was close to his chest. Lassiter was the tether that had lead Shawn directly to his doom and the thing that had recently been part of a shooting, a last link to the person who provided Shawn so much fun, dealt with him, suffered the company of the annoying man, and went through Hell compared to everyone, and still was in it unable to talk about it fully. 

Gus drove out of the garage then drove down the street rapping his fingers on the steering wheel heading on toward the general scene where the shooting had happened. He came to pause at a house that was blazing and the firemen were in attendance taking care of it. He came to  pause recognizing the faces of the neighborhood. He recognized the house through the fire as someone from work. He worked his jaw spotting the camera crew were there in attendance recording the event considering it a breaking news. 

He parked the car along the sidewalk then sped toward the house and weaseled his way through the crowd. 

"Excuse me!" Hailey Desiree, a reporter, replied. 

"You are excused." Gus answered. 

"What are you doing and who are you?" Hailey asked. 

Gus turned around and faced the camera sporting a glare. 

"Burton Guster, representative of Pacific Nutraceutical Products."

"You used to work with the psychic who consulted for the Santa Barbara Police Department awhile back, whatever happened to him?"

Gus sucked in a breath facing her, his face long and hard, clenching his teeth, jaw locked, unable to say it publically, facing her, all so tense and angry before approaching the subject, hard to relax, to ease up, looking so offended that someone cared before he appeared. Where was this caring when he stopped showing up on the news? Where was this caring for the last three years while he lived in Hell not knowing?

"He went missing." Gus replied.

"He went missing?" Hailey was caught by surprise.

"For the last three years." Gus replied, calmly. "I haven't heard a wink from him. Annoyingly."

"That's news to this station!" Hailey exclaimed.

"There's a family in the basement," Gus proceeded to lay it out for the cameras changing the subject. "they got a stupid fire escape plan," He tapped on the palm of his hand in such anger and resentment for the not well thought out plan. "they're not inside the house."

"They are in the house," Hailey retorted, plainly. "it's the basement. Built inside the house."

"It's outside of the house." Gus argued back.

"It is not outside the house, though." Hailey replied.

"I heard it both ways, once." Gus remembered.

"You most certainly did not." one of the neighbors, Blankston, remarked. "What kind of idiot said that? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"

"And by the time the firefighters find them once the blaze has settled, they will be very dead!"

Gus made a mad bolt around the house then came to the side of the house, grabbed a hammer, struck down the lock, repeatedly, until it cracked open, then he lifted the doors open, smoke brewing of the attic, then descended down into the pit of smoke and carbon dioxide using his jacket as his mask. Gus heard screaming and banging from below at the second set of doors. Like he said, it was a stupid fire escape plan.

"HELP!"

Gus could hear the wailing of a baby in the air and children crying ranging in age. 

"HELP! HELP! HELP!"

"PLEASE, HELP US!"

"HEEELP! HEEEEEELP!

"WE'RE RIGHT HERE!"

The father, naturally, was the dumbass of the bunch, who didn't think of his extra precautions, never really, actually, thought of this happening, error forgiven in the stupidity. 

"HEEEEELP!" Scared and distraught. All of them were scared. All 13 of them. 

The high pitch wailing of a infant hit a nerve. 

Gus raised the hammer then banged it against he door knocking it down over and over, over the sound of their screaming and pleading, the sight of a red growing blaze through the orange tinted hue, over, and over, over. Thinking about his childhood dream with Shawn about being a real firefighter, they were once, they tried, during a case, it just wasn't for them. And just this once, he got to be a firefighter without the yellow suit, the oxygen mask, the gloves. 

He raced on banging the door until he struck the knob leaving a big gaping hole. The knob flinging on into the distance with a loud clatter. He finished the great heroic effort lowering the hammer then with his free hand grabbing the door then hauling it open and threw it aside in the wide corridor that was perfect for a filming crew to be resting alongside him catching view of the figures in the smoke with faces covered in shoot very scared. 

"Go!"

"Mr Guster?" Came the incredulous comment. 

"This way! What are you doing?" Gus barked back, glaringly. "UP!"

"He's no firefighter," was spoken between coughs. "but he'll do!"

"Right this way, got his way, now! NOW! NOW!"Gus beckoned the children up the stairs then looked on searching for his ex-worker. 

Rark was no where to be seen that caused him a moment of great pause standing there waiting for his figure to appear. His face faltered as his hope diminished for him but not for the kids as he looked over and closed his eyes hanging his head for a moment. 

Damn. He didn't make it. 

Gus turned away then went after the family carrying the hammer in his hand launching on after them and hacked once he met sweet delightful air facing the bright light of the outside world. 

Gus staggered out away from the back heading to the sidewalk. Running through the grass lowering his head in the fit of coughing. His steps were woozy, opening and closing his eyes, his eyes stung by tears, as if he was a fawn reborn through disaster, wobbly, arriving to the fleet of firefighters and paramedics that had so recently arrived there. Heavy weighted blankets offered abound to all thirteen of the kids who had their parents strangely absent.

Gus was joined by a familiar firefighter beckoning him over glaring at him so harshly. 

"What are you doing here?" A harsh comment. 

"I live down the road." Gus shrugged. 

"Are you nuts?" a reasonable comment as two firefighters sped down the stairs into the basement.

"Maybe a little." Gus admitted.

Gus was handed an oxygen mask then he breathed into it.

"You could have died down there!"

Gus leaned against the fence then looked up where he smiled. 

"I died a long time ago." was his admission.

a comment that gave the firefighter a long moment of pause staring, gaping, floored, stunned, slack jawed, then horrified, and finally, sympathetic. 

"Shawn Spencer was in that forest...." came the question, bitterly. "Wasn't he?"

The camera man caught the sight of the  firefighters resting hand on the salesman's shoulder who nodded. 

Chapter Text

The world can be a harsh place as one former head detective Lassiter was aware of. A world that made one hell of a difference without the right people there to make the incident go as smoothly as it should. The world can have teeth that harmed one when stepping out of their house or let it be their heart.

You had to have a well protected heart being Carlton Lassiter. Parking the police cruiser along the shoulder of the street the stepping out resting his hands along his hips. Taking in a nice breath of air as Gus drove up glaring at the forest then parked along the sidewalk facing the direction where Lassiter was facing.

He saw the familiar thorn reappear out of the thicket wearing a grin.

"Good morning, Lassie, Gus, and..." Shawn paused, looking on ahead.

Lassiter looked over to his side facing Gus then back facing the psychic.

"He is holding back." Lassiter answered.

Shawn looked mildly disappointed in response to the observation shaking his head 

"Right..." The psychic gazed back and forth grimacing on ahead. "He isn't interested in seeing a look alike."

Bitterly then approached the driveway of the victim's property. He tilted his head ever so slightly squinting on into the distance. His eyes gazing from side to side spotting the things that stood out to him. In mere moments nailing it down to the spots where the gunfire came from.

"The forensics say the shooting came from that house in the back." Lassiter reported gesturing over toward one of the taller houses that was brown and white with brick and paneling. "O'Hara took in a couple guys living there as roommates in the building along with some help getting them all."

Shawn turned in the direction of the forner head detective for a moment wearing a frown that was disappointed.

"And did she take their statements." Shawn replied.

"It's case closed." Lassiter replied 

"Not so much the right place." Shawn stated.

"The bullets came from that house." Lassiter gestured toward the house 

"First of all, Lassie..." Shawn clasped his hands tight then exhaled. "That is wrong, unbelievably wrong!"

"Alright mystic, go on, go on."

"It's mad, it's short on reason and closing a book with the wrong information."

"O'Hara is the most reasonable detective--"

"Her little case box is full of falsehoods."

"She did excellent detective work."

"She didn't listen to them."

"Spencer," Lassiter started, annoyed. "where did the shooting come from?"

Shawn walked without any eccentric performances pretending to be drawn by any ghost or by any spirits. Just walking with his hands down together squeezing his hands together for a long moment hurrying through the street with Gus and Lassiter lagging behind him. Cautious blue eyes gazing from side to side as Gus scrutinized the environment. As if it has scandal behind it. Made of scandal.

Somehow not having a dramatic performance felt different to the beat cop following his lead. A bit lacking the energy and spirit of the old days that seemed to be dropping off the younger man's frame. Gus still held doubt behind the man's identity. Walking in through street until coming to a pause at a ladder leading up to a old tree house.

Shawn leaned against the tree folding his arms.

"She should really start questioning the owner of the house who owns this property." Shawn replied, swallowing hard lowering his head and sighed. "The next steps are easy and don't involve me in the slightest."

Shawn walked on past them leaving the men exchanging looks quite befuddled.

"That was anti-climatic." Gus spoke, finally.

Lassiter worked his jaw then jogged after the psychic.

"That's it?" Lassiter was irked.

"No more dead bodies, no hidden dead bodies, no visions," Shawn patted the palm of his hand. "no Espanol."

Shawn marched on away further from the duo heading off toward the forest more disappointed at the lackluster ending of the entire episode.  No Act was required since it was so obvious and apparent.  How did they miss that glaring thing?

"No performance."

"None is required."

"Spencer, is there something going on in your personal life that I should know about?" Lassiter asked.

"You already know about it; the impending event." Shawn halted on his tracks holding his hands up in front of his chest, smiling, his voice didn't seem full of sarcasm, his face full of warmth. "Thanks for asking."

"Oh my sweet lady of justice." Lassiter exclaimed in a moment of shock. "Spencer, what else did I do?"

"Nothing, nothing," Shawn rested his hands on the older man's shoulders. "I promise," sincere then shaking his head. "who's doing I don't know."

"You don't know."

"And that is what matters."

Lassiter glared back at Shawn, squinting.

"Does he know?" Lassiter asked. 

Shawn looked from side to side then faced Lassiter. 

"No.." Shawn admitted.

Lassiter folded his arms looking down upon him looking concerned. 

"... Spencer, how are you doing with that over your head!" Lassiter asked. 

"With all things considered.." he looked down facing the pavement with his hands in his pockets then up. " pretty well."

Lassiter was very skeptical looking at the man that he knew very well.

"Not that well." Lassiter remarked.

"At least I am not falling apart like Kevin McCarthy." Shawn turned back toward the glaring older man then back. "It's on the Roku channel with ads."

"You are going back there anyway despite being afraid." Lassiter acknowledged

"Gotta do it or else.." Shawn looked aside then faced Gus and back at the beat cop.

Lassiter looked over toward the staring pharmaceutical salesman then faced him. That would happen.

"Spencer..." The beat cop was taken back. "that is very brave."

Shawn smiled back at him that was so genuine but younger. The smile was a bit different, sweeter, touched, emotional. But the same one that had been lost. One dusted over gently by Death's methods of taking care of a shell and dulled away taking the softness away leaving only a well stripped skeleton behind. Alive and brilliant. And there and facing the beat cop.

Like clouds parted to see a old friend again.

A pulsing spiritual scream from the spiritual real made Shawn closed his eyes applying a finger to his temple picking up the phone in a metaphorical sense as he staggered back and leaned against the side of the fence.

"The spirits!" Dragging himself further away from them to the center of the road wincing pain rubbing his forehead. "Oh my," a loud yelp came from him. "they.."

Waving his hand right out there.

"They are screaming at once! Speak one at a time! Speak in sync!"

Gus rolled his eyes so hard.

"Someone has a rifle out of a window!" Shawn screamed.

Lassiter glomped him to the ground right into the nick of time as the shooting started and Gus hid falling out of the line of fire squealing in fear. He hid beneath the car cupping his head and shrieking for a long time that stretched long after the bullets had cease firing. Scared and distraught of being back in the middle of a gun.

Lassiter and Shawn had rolled underneath the police cruiser in part due to the beat cop who called it in caught by surprise of the unexpected shooting.

"We have a officer involved shooting!" Lassiter barked into the radio. "Over!"

The sound of a voice came over the radio in response followed by static.

"Aren't you supposed to use a code for that?" Shawn asked

"We don't got time for codes!" Lassiter barked 

The psychic listened to the beat cop's racing heart with his arms wrapped around him surprisingly. Whenever that happened was a surprise as it happened lightning fast. 

His heart rate doesn't want to go down as the sound of police wails echoed in the air.

Nope not even wanting to relax at the sound of safety.

Shawn smiled seeing additional wheels appear rolling up.

Shawn could swear his heart was in his head and it was pounding and had a 'head rate". But that could be a concussion that Lassiter gave him.

"Someone is definitely trying to kill me." Lassiter replied.

"That is going to hurt the chief's huge ego." Shawn noted.

"In light of last night, not that bad." Lassiter said.

Chapter Text

Everyone turned their heads when Shawn Spencer walked back into the police department. Being actively staring at as if he were a ghost. A giant attention soaking spectacle that made all those who saw him simply stare in shock. Silence filling the air and steps had ceased in their tracks.

They don't even go up the stairs into the upper floor but set in the lower section that had the interrogation rooms and had other offices. Shawn sighed full of content cheerfully wearing a grin in the interrogation room they felt light.

Trout stared from the other side of the glass at the man who was not definitely Shawn Spencer, a man who was still missing. A man who wore a missing man's face with such grace and ease wearing it so well. He had that familiar voice, the mannerism down to a pat, those eyes, something that made the chief pause for a long time. 

"How do you know someone is dead by their phone?" Shawn asked. 

"You don't for a start," Gus was heavily irritated. "phones don't have that much connection to the human body!"

"If your pacemaker disconnects."  Shawn said. 

"You're out of your damn mind!" Gus exclaimed.

"Guster, it's a fairly recent invention in the last five years." Lassiter remarked. 

Gus looked over incredulously toward the direction of the beat cop in disbelief at the remark who had his ways of finding out stuff since he was more heavily in the field than Gus was when it came to advancements that aided in investigations. Gus dealt with pills, Lassiter dealt with the aftermath of a crime, and Shawn dealt with nothing since he was incredibly dead. Dealing with watching the case proceed unable to intervene in a helpful way.

It was silent between them as the crowd waited being baked in the impatient long drawn out silence.

Shawn leaned back against the chair resting a glare on the direction of the beat cop in a moment of annoyance.

"Dude," Shawn began. "stop worrying about the fetus." 

Gus looked over toward the duo and his dark brown eyes flashed open.

"No." Lassiter declined. "And that is a promise."

"It's fine." Shawn reassured.

"You don't see the future often." Lassiter retorted. 

"Shouldn't matter." Shawn tapped his finger on the side of the beat cop's temple. "I can practically hear your anxiety through your head."

"What fetus?" Gus asked.

"Is your wife under going some pregnancy related complications?" Shawn asked.

"No." Lassiter replied.

"Is she black." Shawn replied.

"No." Lassiter denied.

"Shut up, Kirk, your baby is going to be fine." Shawn dismissed 

"Why should if matter if she was black and pregnant?" Lassiter looked over in the direction of the psychic. 

"Well statistically.." Gus started to answer the question. "is a whole lot more dangerous and life threatening." Lassiter leaned forward listening to what the well versed pharmaceutical salesman had to say. "Having a baby isn't a decision to be made lightly.. A whole list of things can go wrong, blood pressure for starters! And what fetus?"

Shawn's head whirred over toward Gus for a moment.

"His current wife is pregnant." Shawn answered, simply.

Gus's jaw dropped as his eyebrows rose up in response to the announcement.

"She was pregnant at the time of the shooting." Gus replied, horrified.

"I didn't know." Lassiter replied.

Shawn's eyes rested on the beat cop absorbing the information.

"Ow." Shawn said.

"Ow is right." Lassiter glared over coldly in the direction of the psychic. 

Shawn's face and his eyes softened considerably upon the former he'd detective.

"How pregnant is she?" Shawn asked.

"She was a month pregnant when it happened." Lassiter recalled, looking away. A breath of guilt that was exhaled that made his face look heavier and shoulders that dealt the weight of self-blame. Pieces of a cold hard prison that had only opened up by the way of a single hand without a key as if it didn't require a lock to open a cage. "that was six months ago."

Gus's jaw was hanging open staring at Lassiter holding sympathy and sorrow.

"Why did you never mention this?" Gus asked.

Lassiter's gaze shot over toward the pharmaceutical salesman. 

"We don't work together as often as we used to." Lassiter reminded.

"Detective," Shawn rested a hand on his shoulder. "You have good odds."

"Good odds!" Lassiter was outraged as his eyebrows lifted up and the familiar heated anger was cast upon the psychic.  "Good odds aren't having the baby delivered early! a premature born baby that needs help!"

Shawn's mouth gaped open as the full blast of the angst became revealed.

"Delayed milestones! Thousands of dollars, millions, just for the hospital, I can cover that, but a baby spending their first few months in and out of a hospital that's a stationary germ lab? How can I cover that? How?"

Shawn's face softened in pity as the head detective's mouth ceased running. 

"Actually, they're pretty sterile." Gus clarified.

"You're failing miserably at making the point, detective." Shawn agreed. 

"Pretty basic coming from the guy who has never settled down in one place and not worn protection." A familiar irritable tone in response to the psychic detective. "Being a parent is never going to be in your book. Too immature to understand that."

There was a significant pause between that two of them as the psychic faced the beat cop resting his on the chair facing him for a moment almost taken back at how sharp the comment came out of him.

"Remember who you're talking to." Shawn requested. 

"Adopting pets does not count." Lassiter hissed. 

"Loving them through illness does and that part is hard." Shawn turned the chair aside then sat back down crossing his legs in the same position that Gus had moved his chair a bit ago during the conversation. "Having my own flesh and blood running around is very different."

Lassiter turned toward the psychic detective as his blue eyes flashed open.

"An admission!" Lassiter snapped his fingers leaning forward.

"But what is not different is worrying," Shawn gestured toward the former head detective in his lcomplaint as Gus found himself nodding in agreement. "and you're worrying too much about the most stupid sterile building in the entire city!"

Gus noted that the young man was vicious as Shawn was back in the older days.

"Do you know how many sick people are in the waiting room?" Lassiter was irked. 

"I can say it's nothing how ER and The Pitt demonstrates it." Shawn said. 

"Stop minimizing it!" Lassiter shot back.

"It's ridiculous what is festering on your guilt and anxiety of the event that happened three years ago which in your mind has everything to do with your wife being in the hospital, its also undeserved, the only party who should be eaten alive by razor sharp ribbon flesh cutting guilt is the person who killed me out in the forest! Being an eye..."

"Spencer." Lassiter growled as his eyebrow twitched and the dynamic was so familiar to the salesman as if rewatching a old moment from long ago play out with how fierce the pair were being. Hot and explosive between them like a wildfire clearing up old growth that died long ago which needed to be rid of. "Don't you even go there." 

Shawn played with his words in the next half.

"Eyeseeasuarus..." Shawn continued. Gus's brown eyes darted aside then toward the window.   "is.." Slowly taking his time to navigate out of the jam.  "nothing to stab your mind with daily of having seen something that can kill you too, like a pack of Deinonychus hunting a walking bipedal heroic prey, colorful feathers, sharp teeth, feasting a quickly shrinking food platter."

"Where is this very specific image from."

"A fan of a guy who wrote a book about accurate dinosaurs in Vietnam who loved Jurassic Park as much as we do." 

"That is not an accurate assessment of guilt." Says the man being eaten by guilt who's words were starting to make Shawn laugh. "This one is deserved; I have enemies." Shawn turned his head away and laughed folding his arms at the remark. "Enemies out there who would like to see me dead! Stop laughing at me!"

Gus cupped the side of his face looking on toward the beat cop then leaned forward looking at him really hard. 

"Did you hold a gun and do the deed?" Shawn wore a grin. 

"No!" Lassiter shot back 

"Then stop blaming yourself for your wife's shooting!" Shawn smacked his fist on the table then stood up to his feet and raised his voice. He looked mad, really mad.

It was still in the air between them as if Shawn had enough and his words carried authority. As if he alone could judge who deserved guilt and who did not and lifted it off the shoulders of someone innocent. In the little time that Gus had spent around the younger man, he hadn't raised his voice all that often like that.

"If you really do cherish your favorite 'fake psychic's memory, appreciate him, respect him, then maybe you should take advice straight from the horse's mouth and throw that stupid guilt into the trash because that fetus needs you whole not in pieces!"

Gus was quite taken back as if the young man had simply met the end of his patience when it came to the head detective's ruined aspects of life. Merrily cleaning it up in the best way that he enjoyed; brutally destroying someone with words. 

"That baby alone cannot save your mind mentally," the monolouging that was going on uninterrupted adding more to the point that was quite impressive how he was fighting for the man's mind and soul. "you need to reach out and take a hand because there are plenty of expecting fathers in similar positions in this city."

It's like he was weeding out everything and mowing the lawn the way that Shawn was willing jumping in and brutally attacking what was in the man's mind using his words. Fair points that was being made using the image of a dead man to make someone become better.

Shawn sat back down and faced the mirror as if he had said all that he had needed to say. 

Who ever this man really was, and what his face really was, he was performing excellently, he must be wearing a rubber mask, Gus assumed so quite largely. The young man had to be a voice actor. The private detective was doing good job mending the hearts of those who knew Shawn well while overseeing another case that was being paid handsomely by a third party. Who was the third party who was interested in this case being solved, anyway?

The door finally opened then the chief came in wearing a cross expression on his face gazing on toward the beat cop. 

"Start talking."

"If my child is born is there a guarantee that the baby will be coming with me?" Lassiter asked. 

Gus and Shawn looked up toward Trout at the question 

"So you.. can't... talk to me... about it."

"Have you kept a promise to the dead before?"

"A few times."

"Then you should understand how  hard it is not to be able to provide justice for someone who is still missing. For all intents and purposes, he is dead. Very dead."

It's like the beat cop had fired a gun into the room as Trout sat down then rubbed his face. 

"You can testify that to a court of law." trout said. 

"In a couple years." Lassiter said.

"Theoretically," Shawn added, holding his index finger up then rested his hand on the older man's arm for a moment with his gaze resting on the acting chief. "if he can get his baby with him."

Gus leaned forward shaking his hands at the chaos that was raging through the room. 

"Hold on, this is a US marshal discussion!" Gus spoke up. "We shouldn't be having this discussion, period, nada, no!" Gus stood up to his feet facing the chief then slid the chair in sporting a glare. "And all I was here for is for my witness statement."

Shawn looked over toward him and paused for a moment and back toward Trout as did the head detective. 

"Have you looked at that tree house, chief?" Lassiter asked. 

"What tree house?"  Trout asked. 

"Oh sweet heavens of jewels." Gus lifted his head up giving it a good shake.

"See, detective?" Shawn inquired looking over toward the beat cop.

"Everyone overlooks it," Lassiter rolled his eyes leaning back into the chair then sighed resting his hands on the table and looked over toward the younger man. "I get it." 

"My job here is done," Shawn got up to his feet then slid the chair in. "literally," then patted on the shoulder of the beat cop. "they're not interested in my witness statement, they're just interested in little," clasping him by the chin giving it a good shake. "old you who's hair has gone fancier."

Shawn let go then walked around the table as Trout gazed back and forth. 

"There's a tree house that has curtains," Lassiter proceeded to explain to the acting chief as Shawn and Gus collided at the door then bickered who went out first like two children. "it's really embedded deep into the tree," Recalling the definitive details of the old tree house. "It's old, it's tall, one half of it leans into another yard, and it has got a ladder."

"Easy mistake." Trout said. 

"I'm not going to be the one who tells O'Hara," Lassiter informed, taking delight quite strangely in the situation wearing a smile with his arms folded. "that's all on you, chief."

"Someone tried to kill you, Officer Lassiter." Trout reminded. "TWICE!"

Lassiter was quite unphased by the reminder.

"US marshal or I am going out back there and investigating that crime scene as a beat cop." Lassiter replied. 

"No need," Gus was the one who won the argument then rushed out. "O'Hara is going to do that."

Shawn stood at the door then sighed. 

"Do I have to drive with her?" Shawn whined. 

Lassiter looked at Trout who looked back at him then they looked back at Shawn at once.

"She is the only one driving back there, Spencer." Lassiter replied.

Shawn groaned opening the door then slammed the door behind him rushing up the stairs. 

He ascended up the stairs of the department for the second time that day. Everything was exactly the way it had been before save for notably older faces that he recognized. Officer Allen was perched at her desk. Everyone carrying on their day in perfect harmony.

He was a young man who picked the wrong forest to walk through to get lost in with his thoughts. 

Not the older man who belonged here and that is why he felt so out of place.

Living in his spot at the table in a metaphorical sense that should be filled by the right guy. Someone beefier and well filled out with a plethora of life experiences that he could yank stuff out of. A future that... His eyes softened. Well, seemed all warm and cozy. He just had gotten the opportunity to become a  version of the guy who's planted roots benefited him.

But he was the right guy meant to fix things by doing something and it counted hard on the long run mending wounds with his words like fertilizer and water and nice patting around the plant adding support here and there. It wasn't easy work but hard ones done with care and love seeing every delay getting back home was helping them.

He walked down the corridor heading toward the desk of the detective.

He sped up his pace then swerved to the corner of the desk. Could've heard a pin drop but he sound of his footsteps and more stares like the  return of the log lost handsome loving kind king from a great battle seas away.

"I need a ride back to the forest."

"Back to Rodriquez street Olson street."

"You have to go, anyway. The chief told me you are going there." Leaning forward facing the older woman. "You and everyone practically missed a well hidden sniper's nest in an tree house."

Her face faltered for a moment at the prospect and the innocent men who were in holding then sighed cupping her face into her hands and her elbows on the desk then leaned back releasing a sigh..

"I have some cases to check in on along the way." O'Hara replied. 

"Long as it isn't an entire day," Shawn replied, then shrugged. "I don't care about the detours."

O'Hara shot over a glare in the direction of the psychic.

"No snooping." O'Hara said.

Shawn simply laughed then hung his head and looked right over toward her. "

"Did I stutter when I wanted to leave?" Shawn asked.

It came out nice and mean and a nice long stare back at her. She looked at him in a moment of concern as her blue eyes gazed back and forth.

"What's going on.."

So Shawn talked then let the silence hang there and looked over toward her clasping his hands together. O'Hara leaned back mulling over the grave issue.

Shawn looked around appreciating that he wasn't stating around or else this sweet world would be making him see dreams of everyone singing like Galavant and Cop Rock. Or per his weird abilities. Catch Lassiter singing about being careful out there and exaggerating the crime rate with a orchestra and a dance choreographed and spotlights. And a entire department full of people doing their job in the middle of a musical tuning it out.

Or Lassiter having a contrasting duet song with a suspect who knows he knows they did it but couldn't prove it.

Eventually, she got up then Shawn followed the detective.

The next thing he knew O'Hara pinned him against the wall and gave him a awfully nice kiss. 

"Now.. Now... you're set to face Death, Shawn... Spencer." O'Hara said.

Chapter Text

Gus was back at his office ready to make another route.

Competing against his old boss was a job that he didn't take lightly, he took it in delight. He was paid better, treated better, dealt with better snacks, and the office space was different.

The old office wasn't as big as this one which made him feel a bit important and higher up compared to all the times that he got random promotions, the office renovating a lot, changing, over the years.

Like new sets were built making it feel... different. 

The suitcase was well packed and ready to start going on his daily route.  There was a knock at he door that drew his attention and all facing his secretary who leaned forward resting her hand on the side of the wall. 

"You have visitors." Brenda said. 

Gus scowled facing the secretary. 

"Tell them I have to do work." Gus replied. "We can talk after work."

"It's the local news channel," was the clarification. "they're doing a live interview about Shawn Spencer. The guy who showed up a couple times that you worked with. Maybe it has to down with your searching for him effort."

Gus forced a smile up keeping back the hidden sad expression hidden in his heart knowing it wasn't a missing person's case anymore but a criminal and burgulary one.

"Will take all the help that is offered to help find him." Gus replied.

He had been Gabby Petito'ed from day one.

"Mr Guster?"

Gus paused in the middle of his thoughts squeezing his eyes shut at the prospect of using her name as a noun.

"I'm fine," No, he was not. "Tell them to come in."

A stupid noun without any context behind her murder. Was it even appropriate? No, it was not, making light of a poor woman's death and disappearance. it's like saying, if for example, in the most cruel way, he thought of the good morning show anchor Savannah Guthrie's mom was killed and instead of the word 'Guthri'ed' being a positive joking word it became heavily dark.

How Shawn found it in the heart to make last names into amusing nouns was both abhorrent and admirable, he didn't know what to pick, it was brilliant and it got the point across regarding the idea without context. There are many ways a name could be a noun and stand for something else. Plenty of people did that. the heavy cloak of crime lingering above it was distasteful in this context. 

Gus returned to the desk then sat down and leaned forward wearing a smile. 

The news reporter and the camera man came in a few moments after.

"How long were you acquainted to Shawn Spencer?"

"I knew him, once." Gus started.

And it felt like he knew him forever from the moment they met.

"Ever since we were in kindergarten." there was a heavy pause there. "No, that's wrong," he lowered his head shaking it in a moment of amusement proceeding to smile then looked up. "We met in pre-school. 1981."

There was this light in Mary-Anne's eye.

"Who's idea was it to open psych? " Her eyes full of interest."Yours or.."

"Mine." Gus replied. It wasn't wrong. He ironed out the whole business.

Shawn would be complaining that it was him who opened it.

'duuuuudeeeeee!' so offended at the white little lie.

"When did you decide to open Psych with Shawn?"

"Shawn always had this gift for the spirits, the spiritual realm, being eccentric, and so..." He looked aside remembering the chaos then faced the news reporter who stared at him in a long moment.

"Remarkable."

"Say that to Officer Lassiter and he'll say pain in the ass."

"As a individual who has solved a long list of cases with unconventional means following the leads that the ghosts did."

"He was incredible." Gus recalled while leaning back. "That is what he..."

"Is."

"Yes, is."

"He is still around, isn't he?"

"Hmmm. Around." Gus was quite non-committal to answering that question.

"Around these parts doing something that fills the gap that Psych left."

He sighed, warmly, remembering, thinking back.

"and we dreamed of working together."

Their childhood flickered across his mind. Shawn's disapproval of his tap dancing. Sometimes wondering how they were friends with such clear differences between them. The shenanigans that they were up to growing older and having a first hand taste of Shawn's chaos brimmed from the surface of the house when entering his orbit. 

"Shawn's dad didn't approve of his son being a psychic and thought it didn't mix well."

"And what happened between them?"

"He trained him anyway to be a cop." Gus answered rubbing the side of his face, "Whether it be intentional that he did it harder or was making a point, alienating him from the mere idea," and shrugging. "I don't know."

"What do you know about between him?"

"That he had a cool dad." Gus answered. "between them," he stopped smiling, his face falling, a kernel of truth emerging. "I will never know," clasping his hands together then rubbing his forehead. "to be honest.."

Mary-Anne and the camera man watched him turn back toward them.

"Never thought to ask."

Gus leaned back into the chair turning to his side remembering the moments so fondly yet twisted up in a lie. 

"Shawn was reluctant to be using his gifts being out there, targeted easily, being a psychic, it's not easy, it can harm the mind and the body, whether it be spirits or by people who want him gone." Gus became frank talking about the issue with all the due seriousness that it deserved. "it took then Detective Lassiter to take him out of that kicking and screaming!"

Gus chuckled gazing aside remembering the moment but altering significantly for the truth to be held back and let the lie in. 

"Once Shawn got a taste of it.."

Everything changed once Lassiter got in his orbit and made them reconnect.

"had some security, had someone to fallback on, to rely on."

He snapped his fingers then smiled for a moment so smugly remembering how exited the fake psychic was.

"He ran fast as his little legs could carry him to my office."

Gus's laughter continued remembering the  fake psychic gazing on toward door fondly, remembering him, thinner, younger, a bit rough around the edges, and sharp. And he wouldn't take no for an answer even despite all of Gus's 'no'. The one guy would love the highs and lows when it came to investigating a case for a wrongly implicated innocent person. He rubbed the side of his face. 

"He couldn't do it alone, he needed someone to back up his evidence and be the tether that kept him from falling head first into purgatory for the sake of a case. And it was fun, really, really fun, running psychic, I got a good job, good house, a girlfriend, and, yet, not running around avoiding gunfire..." He looked aside. "I can do without that."

'You mean it's boooorrring.' he could hear the ghost whisper into his ear.

Animated and by his side leaning over the desk being hammy. 

"So you closed due to not consulting with the department?"

Gus's phone started to ring. 

"We had to," then he sighed. "I had to," he could see the specter of that ghost across leaning against it beckoning him to be honest, imagining him perfectly. Unharmed and alive and well, made of a a yearn a wish, supporting him. "things weren't changing."

"But they were in the office." Mary-Anne replied. 

"Not in a good way," Gus confirmed.

The phone kept on ringing.

"Surely, Mr Guster," Mary-Anne replied. "things were changing for him outside of the office."

Gus smiled over the sound of the phone ringing.

"And Shawn was chasing for cases,"

The salesman chuckled so fondly at the moment remembering the struggle.

"determined, balancing his second job with Psych," Remembering him so warmly at the strides that he took, "Planning a wedding with O'Hara..." And his words hung there for a moment at the story that had stopped so abruptly as his phone rang on and on. "and I had to support him and the office while he looked for a steady and reliable client."

A simple exhale was released. 

"Sometimes I found us clients and a good portion of time, he did, and then, the clients found us, sometimes we had to say no, direct them to better services, make do with other payments when it came to people we really wanted to help."

Mary-Anne was quiet silent listening to him speak.

"Sometimes I had to drag Shawn over to a potential client by other means."

The phone was ringing stubbornly, as Mary-Anne checked her phone then the camera man's phone was checked.

"Attend some events," Looking on toward the camera clasping his hands on the desk quite nostalgically. "well.." He missed those days so hard. "like he," Like a man dropped out of a action adventure flick and couldn't go back after being abandoned to a normal life that was full of emotional teeth stabbing into him.  I can't do some things alone either."

"It's your phone ringing." Mary-Anne said. 

Gus's phone rang then he picked it up and swiped on the screen.

"Burton Guster, representative of Pacific Nutraceutical Products."

"G...G... Gus... Gus, is that you?"

Hope is contagious. Once you bring it into the air and release it there is no going back. Releasing it like butterflies from a net that grew from caterpillars and change the entire world as they knew it. Gus's entire world trembled, even when there was no physical earthquake, his mouth gaping, staring, hearing the voice over the line that shook his entire world.

"Shawn?" Gus asked.

He looked back and forth not wanting to believe it and he flashed back to the crime scene hearing silence. 

Gus heard panting over the line that was easy to pick up on.

Gus faced the camera for a long moment as his mind whirred in the chaos that had unfolded in the last few days, fast paced, emotionally a disaster, and doing barely little to no investigating that required breaking in and entering. He could feel the stare on the other end of the camera resting on him. He could imagine the younger man laughing at him for reacting his way falling for his trick.

Being taken for a fool. 

"No.." And then he remembered, the skeleton. "no.. No!" Gus was living on the brink of pure outrage that sat there neatly on physical outrage. "This is not funny!"

The silence of an voice but pierced by panting continued as if the caller was out of breath from a lot of physical action regaining his bearings.

"This is cruel. " Lifting up to his feet as he spoke in a furious whisper. "This... this... this is cruel and you know exactly why it is cruel!"

Confused panting hung there in the air.

"You were there!"

Caller on the other end of the line swallowed, hard. Gus lowered the phone and saw what the caller id read; unknown.

"You saw exactly what I saw!"

This was absurd and deeply hurtful. How did he get his number? Did Lassiter give it to him. Did O'Hara? all with the best intentions only to be cruelly shown it wasn't used properly.

"Gus..." Panting still, starting to laugh ,emotional, happy, "Oh, Gus." And delighted. "Gus..."

Gus turned away from the camera 

"You made us find it!" Gus hissed.

Getting up to his feet feeling so much rage pumping through him walking around the desk quite upset feeling so much rage coursing through him. Enough rage to kill a man as the borders of his outrage tore open. 

"I am going to find you," Gus became quite calm and shaken continuing to whisper. 

The laughter continued at the comment. 

"Don't doubt it for a minute."

"And I am going to punch you in the face outside of that damn forest and my hand is going to hurt! Sting even! then I'm going to get my fist wrapped up for a fist fracture at the nearest hospital!"

"You're going to do all that after punching your best frien—Wait, what?"

The most insidious part of it was how Shawn was doing it so well in stupid character.  The charade had to end. his heart couldn't take any more of this. 

"And it will be worth it!" Gus hung up putting the phone away then faced the reporter and the camera man wearing a smile. Smoothing out his suit wearing a smile that was charming and well composed. "Excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to."

"What business meeting?" Mary-Anne asked, tilting her head, concerned, and alarmed just as much as the camera man who wore an equal question mark above his head. "Your secretary said you have plenty of time to spend."

"it was nice to talk..." then clearing his throat lifting his head up.

Her inquisitive mind ceased to a stand still. 

"The pleasure is all ours, Mr guster." Mary-Anne replied. 

Gus wore that smile shaking his head as if nothing was wrong. 

"Hardly..."  it's like his throat wanted to close up and break apart into sobs remembering that he was gone and the months that he went without talking about Shawn, mourning him, getting over the pain, letting life grow around it. "hardly.." buttoning up the suit. "hardly do I get to talk about my missing business partner."

"Do you think your missing person's partner is dead?"

Gus paused in his tracks facing the door then turned toward her. 

"He left for a decade." Gus started. "When he was eighteen," Reflecting over the jarring world where Shawn just left and Gus had to learn how to pick up the pieces of what constituted his life.  "just got up, left, suddenly, like..."

"Like what, Mr Guster?"

Gus turned back toward the duo.

"Not like three years ago." Leaning his back against the door facing them.

"That's a big red flag."

 "He told me that he was leaving back then." Gus reflected. 

"He didn't know he was leaving this time."

"I spent a lot of time trying to find him this time around. not letting him go without searching for him and charting my own path. I did two things I should've done a decade ago. All that that wasted time..." shaking his head in disappointment. "This time was dead ends..."

Gus inhaled, sharply.

"I knew Shawn Spencer,"

"You know him."

"And if he was alive, well, he would've called me during the first week," Never mind being deprived of access to a phone by his abductors making it a waiting game to snatch their phone and call. "while having flyers out for him, making the internet search for him and if he was leaving this time leaving everything behind for some important reason," Gus shook his head closing his eyes so tightly. "he didn't have a choice; he honestly didn't know."

Mary-Anne leaned forward wearing sympathy.

"He must have called you before." Mary-Anne protested

Gus swallowed, hard.

"He did." Gus confirmed.

"So the two of you had a chat." Mary-Anne replied.

Gus wore emotional pain that clear and visible to the observant eye.  Long trenched emotional pain that had only been recently dug up. Guilt. 

"I was flirting with a woman and I..." Gus stopped himself. 

"Oh." Mary-Anne said. 

Gus proceeded to smile opening the door facing them. 

"You got that right." Gus sped off. 

Buzz  was at his security guard station watching the screens.

Different from doing actual police work that consisted of visiting places.  Behind the police department he missed the most was Shawn and Gus the most they're the fun people of Santa Barbara. All this behind behind Carlton Lassiter that's the one who he admired  for his performance as a detective. Role model.

Staring and scanning  the large screens waiting to see any discrepancies or people running out of the hotel rooms scared making a scene. It was hard finding a job that fit neatly into law enforcement where he felt useful. It was different for being not being a big cop but he still mattered to other people. 

Phone loudly rang then he would do it swipe the screen and set it against his ear.

"Buzz McNab."

There was that strange voice that sounded like a cry made of sorrow and happiness it was so strange as a laugh. Laugh made out of joy. A laugh maybe out of panting and sorrow.

But it was so familiar the distinct tone of it.

"Uh... Hello?"

He hung there for a moment.

"Can I help you?"

Buzz leaned forward for a moment wearing concern listening to the panting and a hard swallow.

"Shawn?"

Buzz guessed  grabbing on to the name of someone who hadn't called in three years.

"How's the case," he leaned back. "I mean favor, the little nothingburger, the one driving you up the wall?"

"Uh..."

"You are doing it with Officer Lassiter?"

"Las... lassie?"

"Said you didn't want to tug him into it. Pretty reluctant how far you got in."

More panting as if the speaker on the other end didn't know what to say.

"W..."

"Is it more difficult to work on? Three years is a long time for radio silence."

"W...w....what case?"

It was Shawn.

"Dreawaisy Billword."

"Daisy Billworld?"

"Ddddrerrrredeeeaaas Bbbbiiioooollllword."

"Man, come on... " Panting between whines. "It is..." between pants. "Daisy Billworld."

"No, no,.no it's..."

"Never... Heard of it..."

Buzz stopped himself remembering this was the exact conversation that they had about the name except it was Shawn insisting that was the name.

"Who is this and why do you have my number."

The caller hung up.

Vick was getting ready to leave the office for a emergency situation that she had to attend.

Most exciting case that had opened up and had begged her to be there. It's a yearning, calling, deep in her soul that needed to be taken care of properly.

Her phone started to ring. 

Picked it up taking a glance at the caller ID. 

Then she swiped on the screen and set the phone against her ear. 

"Who are you and how did you get my number?"

There was silence marked by panting.

"Are you the one who called me last night.'

There was confused panting over the phone.

"If you can't answer that question use something loud if you don't know what I am talking about."

There was a loud sound over the sound of panting... it wasn't a a ghastly fart nor a burp but a sound from an object.

"If you are involved in a criminal matter in my city then please make sure to text me and I will bring the full night of the San Francisco Police department to your doorstep and we will protect you."

The phone line went dead.

Karen Vick didn't get paid enough to think about random calls.

Lassiter's phone rang in the middle of waiting for a us marshal. 

He withdrew the phone then set it against he side of his ear after swiping the screen. 

"Carlton Lassiter."

There was panting over the line as the door opened revealing a sharply dressed US Marshal who looked very cross. 

"Who... who... who... who is this?" Lassiter was listening to the panting looking from side to side.

He lowered the phone then saw there was the text of a number strewn below the icon. 

"You failed this morning to kill me," Lassiter's voice sharpened. "whoever you are, one of Curity's goons, tormenting me, after three years," Clenching the phone so tightly. "after what we found yesterday afternoon," He clenched his hand lifting it and lowering it. "I don't know why, and I don't want to know why..."

Lassiter inhaled then exhaled.

"But if anything happens to those around me.."

Carefully considering his words over the panting.

"Those I worked for years..."

He didn't have much left of Shawn; Buzz, Gus, Juliet, Vick, and Henry.

"I will find you and I will end you," a promise full of anger and resolve and defiance from anymore people falling into the teeth of death so gruesomely. "and I will get away with it," his voice became even more sharpened demonstrating the intent and will power that he carried clenching his teeth to save what he had left. "do we have an understanding?"

There was a laugh over the line that made him freeze that made everything come to a standstill, joyful and relieved.

"Spencer, why are you calling me with a burner phone?" Lassiter was so lost. 

The call ended then Lassiter looked up facing the US Marshal. 

"Heard there were some questions that needed to be asked before officially asking." was the announcement by the Us Marshal.

The US marshal closed the door then answered a few questions that had to be posted. 

Lassiter was out in two minutes rushing out quite disappointed with the answers that he had gotten keeping his trap shut.

O'Hara was in the middle of driving when the phone started ringing.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Shawn asked.

"Later."

"Later might be too late."

"It's been the law since 2008, it can wait."

"Law my ass, I wipe my butt with it every morning."

O'Hara didn't even doubt that comment. It was an amusing visual that had all the feasibility of having happened at least once by accident.

People could modify toilet paper to be decorated in the most unusual things for example one time she found a motorbike to move toward people was decorated in The Bible pages. Very eccentric people. Then again that might be a point someone was trying to make when being little. Or just came back at religion for personal reasons. 

People who are the most strangest and most unusual thing on the planet of the Earth being responsible for several murders she has investigated over her long career. No two people were alike (twins excluded)... well when it came doppelgangers, maybe. Russell West animal life was the most eccentric individuals that appeared during her case load. 

The phone continue loudly winging in the air for fighting for a sense of annoyance that was being very persistent as the minutes dragged on. 10 minutes became 15. Finally the call stopped  and peace return inside the the car. 

Shawn let out a long sigh of a relief rubbing his face.

"That was the longest ignoring the phone call I have ever been part of and I have heard more annoying ringtones than that."

"The ringtone  is not even annoying."

"It is when it's not being answered." Shawn was quite irritable

Phone ring again then Shawn lifted the phone swipe the screen and held it up to the side of her face having enough.

"Juliet  O'Hara, this better be important."

There was nothing but panting and what sounded like hyperventilating. She looked from side to side quite put off.

"I'm on a case right now."

Her voice was calm.

"Driving to a suspect's place."

Shawn's grip on the phone remained steady.

"I can't talk."

Just a world of panting and what sounded like little sobs on the other end of the phone just sounded girly.

"Call me back later and we can have at it with whatever you have to talk to me about if this is about a ongoing case talk to me before the hours of which  the department operates thank you."

O'Hara looked over back toward him.

"Now hang up for me."

Shawn still held the phone up.

"You answered it, Detective." O'Hara reminded

Shawn turned the phone around then hung up and back up wearing a smile.

"Don't have to bathe me on praise for my last day here."

"Helped us make a break in the case, Shawn." O'Hara reminded him, thankful. "Gratitude is required. Being our Shawn or not him at all."

He looked at O'Hara adoringly full of admiration wearing a small little smile. 

"Just one of those moments with one it's really happy to see just what becomes of a promising detective down the road." Shawn mused to himself.

Henry was parked in the yellow car staring at the tree house then his eyes shifted toward the house waiting patiently for O'Hara to show up. 

His phone rang then he picked it up and swiped on the screen proceeding to slide it against the side of his ear. 

"Henry Spencer."

Henry had a long lengthy pause for a moment hearing panting. 

"Karen, I'm outside a house waiting for O'Hara to do some interview with the people inside of the house."

Then he had a sigh.

"And I am going to be leaning really hard on them when they start lying."

He cleared his throat shaking his head.

"Karen, calling me in the middle of jogging is getting old." Henry pointed out. "And very stale."

He squinted through the blast of sunlight pouring down upon the yellow beat up truck.

"If what that kid had to say about there being a connection between Shawn's death and the attempted shooting of Lassiter, this could really bust the case open." He heard what sounded like a sob. "Asides to getting forensics glued all over to the tree house getting every bit of DNA off it and identify them."

The prospect of the incident occurring that way lit up a part of his heart that had darkened and lost its light, losing the opportunity of being a grandfather, losing the opportunity of seeing Shawn being a better dad, being a good father, not obsessed with being a detective and his subsequent children being that way too, a man who was so kind that all he wanted to do was help. He did good shaping up his son and that is why it hurt so damn much and made him so mad that he was gone. 

"I don't care how difficult..."

He took a sip of pineapple flavored sprite.

"And chaotic that this is going to be."

He heard the high pitch tone of a sob that ratcheted through a frame. 

"But I am going to bury my son's remains by the end of this year."

there was certainty in his mind when it came to the grand issue.

"I generally don't care if I have to hunt down the bastard like an animal, make his last moments full of terror, pain, just like Shawn's, I will make it long and drawn out, I will take my time,  and plant a bullet between his eyes at the end." Why was Karen crying? Because she cared about Shawn just as much. 

Sniffing here and there 

"Don't know how else it could go but when it comes to Shawn.."

Henry rubbed his face then sighed and sucked in a tear then let go of another sigh, taking another swing of sprite, then lowered the plastic container back into the cup holder and stared on. The house itself was nothing to write about or cast a movie in as a setting for a high stakes supernatural film. 

"This being chaotic," twirling the cup in the holder. "it feels..." he let the pause hang there for a long time. "right."

A hiccup over there as the sobbing became soundless. 

"A private detective batting the hornets nest, making us do things we wouldn't be normally doing, listen, Karen, I don't like the dirt bag. Not personally, haven't seen him face to face..." Henry reflected on gazing on listening to the sobbing. "Shawn would like him and appreciate him doing all this for them."

Henry stood there in the quiet as the hiccuping continued.

"That is the only thing that is making me stand him if we have to be in the same space." Henry admitted. "I really admire you, being stuck in San Francisco, leading another department, away from all that, it's nice." Talking while she had a long moment of not answering his replies was a natural part of some conversations. "I gotta go,  Karen,someone is calling."

Henry lowered the phone.

"Da—"

Henry hung up then answered the next call.

"Henry Spencer." Henry answered. 

"How is the investigation into Carlton's shooting?" Karen asked. 

Henry looked aside then back. 

"I just was on the phone with you." Henry said. 

"Henry, there's a very pressing hostage negotiation with one of San Francisco's well respected consultant and his assistant. He is cleaning up the suspect's house. The suspect wants to kill him and he is pretty sure that he is the guy."

Henry's eyes darted back and forth combing over the phone as his memory. 

"Then who the hell was I talking the ear off on the phone?"

"A spam caller."

"Lovely guess." Henry replied in a moment of mirth. "They didn't talk."

"What were they doing?" Karen asked. 

Henry furrowed his eyebrow gazing back and forth.

"Panting."

"Panting?"

"Out of breath from physical activity panting." Henry looked aside then paused. 

"What is it? What do you remember?"

"It's nothing," Sometimes he had random audio replays of Shawn's voice, unable to fetch his voice at will, a ghostly reminder of what he had lost, randomly paying a visit, sometimes they happened at random points. Being able to remember the various shirts the young man wore and that is all that he had left of the man including flickers of his childhood spent training. He remembered Shawn's voice maturing and never growing old. "Just a trick of the mind."

Madeleine's phone rang in the middle of a consult.

"One moment."

Madeleine got up to her feet then exited the office and leaned against the side of the wall resting her hand right there.

"Madeleine Spencer, how can I help?"

There was the sound of crying that was familiar to her ears, sniffling, inhaling tears. The top of being emotionally bothered.

"Shawn?" Her normally cold voice became colored over in concern.

A couple sniffling as she sat down listening to the sound of his weepy voice.

"Goose?"

The sniffling continued here and there. Like he was stuck in a emotional wreck that was stuck in a well and had no way out not even a series of blocks to grab hold and climb up on.

"Mom."

Panting. As if he had gotten out of a fight as she heard groans over the phone call.

"Goose, where are you?'

Madeleine leaned forward cupping her elbow 

"I..."

She looked aside frowning at his loss of words then changed the subject. He didn't know and not knowing was going to make him upset then of that he lingered on it. Nothing funny came to mind as a joke to ease the nature of the conversation.

"Is it safe?"! Then she asked, lowering her voice. "Bad case?"

"It is... " Was the confirmation. "It is both, mom.. "

"I'm here, goose. Talk to me."

"I really messed up. I screwed up big time. Dad was right, I shouldn't have stolen that car."

"My little cygnet.." a little nickname. "What you did got you to be happy."

Sniffling replacing the panting as he regained his breath.

"You were in your shoes, not his boots, your psychic abilities, one of a kind, people need that kind of spark out there doing what the police department can't... I have my opinions about it but you were happy as a psychic detective..  weren't you?"

Another sob escaped from him.

"I picked the wrong guy to try and take down with the detective."

She grabbed the handle of the chair listening to him.

"Mom, I never really said this often enough: I love you."

No, he was not safe. 

"I love you too, goose."

"And what do we have here...".another voice came over the line as if he lowered the phone. "Shawn Spencer."

There was a loud high pitched yelp.

"Shawn? Shawn! Shawn!" She shouted into the phone, terrified.

The call ended from there, quite abruptly.

She got up and returned to the pressing issue of a detective who needed to talk. She put aside her feelings for the moment planning to take the next plane to Santa Barbara as soon as possible when the crisis with this officer was over with and visit the psych office with Gus. She sat there in the room and stared back.

"As you are saying." Madeleine beckoned.

O'Hara: I'm coming over with the private detective in twenty minutes.

A series of words that appeared on Henry's screen.

He started the vehicle then drove backwards and  headed back for the house. He needed to dress for the occasion that was very important treating it in the grave way it deserved. Hawaiian shirt didn't quite suit up to the moment. He needed to look good.

If it were Gus who was missing but very dead and Lassiter was being targeted  and his son needed support, Henry in a Hawaiian shirt. A lose cannon needed someone who mentored him from going over the deep end and that unfortunately happened to be the one regretting molding into him a detective In that instance. A image that Henry wished for every day and was robbed of.

Like his son for starters ripped out of his life with no one being able to have his back.

Henry sipped a pineapple flavored drink then set it down on to the cup holder and let out a sigh of relief wearing a smile.

His head was held up higher for the first time in three years knowing something was going on in his son's case reaching for conclusion that was merely a few hours away. These facts were very reassuring to rotate in his mind.

Smiling driving down the road as having waited for four hours for O'Hara to show up.

Hours was nothing when it came to stake outs when time was being wasted simply waiting.

Henry was trained to be patient.

Gus parked the car along the shoulder of the road.

There was the fake Shawn Spencer shaking the hand of the detective.

All wearing a smile wearing rosy tinted glasses saying good bye to the old days, flaws and all, and the comical episodic nature of the old days. Bright and routine that had very chance of veering off into darkness and misery for all involved.

Gus unbuckled then opened the door and rushed out heading toward the man who was walking toward the forest.

O'Hara watched Gus speed run toward Shawn looking full of intent.

Shana halted in his tracks then faced the salesman who looked like he wanted to really murder him.

"Hey, Gus, I am not into having a emotional moment with you right--"

Gus's fist flew knocking him back.

"First you appear, make us find 'your' body, then you call me during work and you have the audacity to say you are not ready for a emotional moment but all you do lately is tear us all apart and emotional then you just walk away."

"Dude, that was not me." Shawn replied.

Gus looked over toward O'Hara then back full of skepticism.

"It was your voice!"

"I misplaced my phone again back at the old office,"

"Bullshit!"

"I was rushing out, how can I make a call without a phone?" Gus's gaze was lowered then the young man emptied his pockets of snacks and back pockets that had little sandwich bags full of candy. 

Gus looked up as his jaw fell and his mind came to a stand still.

"As a side note, in a decade, buy reusable Walmart bag it will help you immensely on the grocery bill department."

Gus worked his jaw.

"He..he... he..." The stakes changed as his heart came alive and sprang in renewal that was awesome in nature. "he is alive."

"He is very dead."

"We talked on the phone." Gus said

"Prerecorded voice message altered to fit his voice."

"Live!" Gus replied.  "He had to be watching TV where he is being kept. "

"Gus..." Shawn rested a hand on Gus's shoulder. "I can't do this with you right now... "

"Of course you can," Gus protested, glaringly. "this is a missing person's case!"

"I can't..." Do that to you.

"Sink further into police work?"

Gus saw caring and kind hazel eyes written up on concern.

"I won't walk you into this knowing you will be broken hard by a scammer having his fun with you." Shawn said.

Knowing Shawn. He'll probably agree but he was Burton Guster and Shawn was not there. 

Shawn wore a stinky glare. Just like Shawn's. A very harsh visual in his mind making him think the psychic would be right by his side wearing the same expression as him for punching the guy quite unprovoked. Be a man and apologize. The kind of look where Shawn was being serious across from someone where he acted mature for once in the middle of a moment to someone that demanded it.

"Okay," Gus apologized, reluctantly. "fine," a loud sigh was had facing him. "sorry about the eye."

"Just means, I gotta put on make up tomorrow!" Shawn turned away then walked on."ow. Ow. Ow."

"Didn't even hit you that hard, big baby!" Gus shot back 

Shawn gripped a tree as he stepped foot into the forest then yelled leaning forward. A loud pained scream caused him to lower his head as if being raked across the chest with a burning weapon as the vision flashed across his mind.  Severe and burning. Twigs crunching. Two familiar men running. Gun shots.

He stepped back then turned toward them panting through the aftermath of the vision

O'Hara wore concern stepping forward.

"What did you see, Shawn?" O'Hara asked.

"Find Rudolph Curity and then.." was the remark that caused her jaw to fall. "I don't know when... how, what, or when, but it is better after that guy is gone to appreciate the moment.."

"Why?" Gus asked.

"You won't be scared of losing it to some random guy."

The idea of no more dread holding her heart broke her heart in two as she stepped back covering her mouth with happy tears.

Shawn faced the interior of the forest then walked in becoming a distant figure the deeper that he went in, getting further and further, that yelped, becoming a mere small traveling dot that vanished into the dulled desaturated gray-green tone.

Chapter Text

"Dennis!"

Gogolack's attention swayed over toward Molly from a long day of being one of those programmers who dealt with programs and firewalls, easily enough to leave calluses on his fingers, a lifetime occupation that was going to haunt him until the day that he died, it was what he was excellent at, his eyes heavy, with barely a mood for turning to the hidden lair of electronics. 

"What is the matter, honey.."

She sat him down at the kitchen table then took his hands and gave them a tight squeeze. 

"Remember when it was announced Shawn was missing and they had a graveyard of the dead out there and a strong possibility.."

"Yeah, yeah, unfortunate..." he lowered his head looking aside, mournfully. 

She slid forward the phone then tapped play ever so gently. 

"... Gus, is that you?"

The words were large in scope but small, panting, out of breath, a bit older than the last time that he had heard the voice, and curious as someone who had been hiding from life threatening danger. Uncertain and confused tone that lit up something within the man that wasn't there before a short while ago hearing voice. A voice that blasted everything open in one sure fire moment.

The video was labeled as: Santa Barbara's  consultant psychic's death was greatly over exaggerated. 

Gogolack stared at the pharmaceutical salesman for a long moment studying his long confused look holding the phone up wearing a smile anticipating it being a doctor or a fellow colleague trying to get some spotlight. 

"... Shawn?"

A tentative series of words gazing back and forth facing the camera. 

Staring on into the shocking moment built of alarm and stunning void that had existed there for ages suddenly became filled in such a surprising manner that was an unbelievable series of words that let water float down the river banks and made grass spring front eh she's of a burned landscape. Words that filled the empty basin and filled it up with life that gladly reappeared.  

"Gus..."  a voice that sounded happy as conviction settled in to his voice and certainty that was pure and radiant and all so bright the way it had came out as if joy had itself emerged from the shadows of the night that had been long and hard. "Oh, Gus." He could imagine him shaking his head white happy to be in the same room let alone hearing him. "Gus..."

He looked up facing Molly as his face fell and something became readily apparent even in the sea of confusion that he lived in. 

"Well, shit, someone is trying to kill him. And now they know he is alive."

"that someone is Robbins Bobbins Slobbins." was her reply.

"Doesn't even sound like a real name!"

"It's ridicules enough that a child could have made it up."

"I wouldn't put it past him to have coined it in front of his face and he's just using it."

"What's the meaning behind the name?"

"His name is probably really Robin and he is sloppy at eating, knowing Shawn."

He listened to the video that played out as he felt the breath in his chest was returned seeing the video was racking up hits and likes that were in the double digit  people calling it a set up, people claiming it was a campaign for their failing business,  people guessing it was a prank being pulled by them, but the way Gus was reacting was saying otherwise. Someone who looked hurt and starting to whisper turning away from the camera in the heat of his anger. 

The video ended with a strip of text reading there was going to be another hour long special that was going to be done right set to be arranged very shortly in regards to Shawn Spencer as confirmed by the local news channel with a link to their socials in the past itself. Socials indicated there was a meeting of the minds after the program had ended that had been made. 

"He has to be hiding somewhere until the guy is found and taken into custody... and that artist sketch that they showed..."

"What are you thinking about doing, honey?"

"Thinking of using hacking into the CCTV network then scanning for that blasted face." 

"Don't you need a complex AI system for that? Like a algorithm ai that sees for patterns. Um, similar to Person Of Interest but so very different. Something that can get all the cameras and locate the spots for the face."

"It would require a lot of power and sophistication..."

He withdrew a sigh then faced her as he slid back from the table. 

"You're just a programmer." Molly said. 

That familiar big dorky smile that was so handsome spread from cheek to cheek. 

"Not just that." Gogolack replied. 

Molly started to smile, a smile that was so infectious, not knowing what was on his mind, what he was thinking, but it had to be good that made up for lacking.

"What are you then?" Molly asked. 

"Shawn Spencer's childhood friend," he got up to his feet. "the police need all the tips. It's going to take awhile to build the ai, order some rotisserie chicken, we're going to be having a long night.. and a lot of screens for the big AI to give a big demonstration tracking down that guy! If the guy stole the first corpse they found then he has to be the one!"

Molly's blue-green eyes rested on him for the moment nodding in agreement to his thought process as her smile had faded 

"What are we doing?" Molly stood up to her feet with her fingers on the table quite excited. "Let's raid the electronic department at the store," she grabbed her large purse then he snatched his jacket. "and help him come back to Santa Barbara!"

The couple stormed out of the house then sped for the Ford Explorer and closed the door behind them lit up on a mission that posed a significant role in a nightmare coming to a conclusion. 

"By the way,"

They rushed to the car that was in park. 

"You maxed out the credit card again." Gogolack replied. 

"No, no, I got a bonus!" she rapped her hands on the roof of the car. "I was saving it for something special."

"...Another Star Trek fan film fundraiser?" Gogolack asked. 

"This is the special occasion!" Molly exclaimed, lifting her check out of the purse. 

The doors opened, the check put away, hopping in, and sped over toward the city leaving skid marks behind on the road rushing by several cars leaving a string of chaos behind that meant knocking over bicyclists and motorcyclists into bushes and kiddie pools. 

Chapter Text

The blueberry came to a halt along the shoulder of the road nearby the vast forest that belonged to Santa Barbara. The doors swung open as the two men gazed on toward the road a behind then as two black BMWs sped side by side. Speeding on fast heading toward the duo.

Shawn looked over toward the pharmaceutical salesman who looked scared, honest to God afraid. More afraid compared to how the last times that the faced death that was fast and menacing and angry and mean. Scared of the ending that was headed their direction that made their hearts pound.

All that Shawn had left was his best friend and his life.

It wasn't much but it was a lot to live with when it came to tomorrow making it worth escaping and living for.

His face was nice and red with tears in his eyes that hadn't left. If he kept crying then Gus was going to be all weepy and this was hard to do keeping back the tears at bay after the giant cruel losses that smacked them like giant hand from the sky that had enough of their routine.

Starting to losing everything in the days starting at seven and now it was five forty eight. Like the world was clocking out his entire world and him with it.  The back of his fists pressed against his eyes.

Shawn didn't know what to do.

"We're out of gas, Shawn! What are we going to do?"

Shawn lowered his fists then rested his hands on the top of the car shoving down the sobs putting on a brave expression.

"We do what Tom Cruise does best." Shawn replied.

"Against these shrinking odds?" Gus asked, bewildered.

"Betting odds." Shawn wore hope so bright and beaming as the tears stopped falling. He used his sleeve to wipe of the last of the tears that were staining his cheek. "Come on, son."

He lifted his fist out then Gus brushed it against him. Nothing different about today other than not having the familiar safety net having their backs. At least they were going out together.

Shawn turned away and shut the door then ran off toward the forest.

Gus ran after the fake psychic running ahead of him speeding down into the forest going zigged zagged weaving there between the trees.

The cars squealed to a stop behind them then the men ran on after them.

"Get them!"

Gus was clipped at the leg knocking him down to his knees as Shawn came to a halt over the loud cry then whirred over toward his side.

"Gus!"

"They got me in the leg! The leg!"

Shawn ran over toward him and knelt down by his side.

"We can still run with that!" Shawn grabbed a hold of the salesman the proceeded to run on from the shooters.

"You are out of your damn mind!" Gus cried out between tears.

Shawn felt a sting in left ankle and still kept on running.

"Maybe I am a little mad like Richard Attenborough, nothing wrong about that."

"He brought dinosaurs back and they are still milking the damn thing!"

"Who said they are making another one?'

"Something about Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard being circled for it."

"There is a new Jurassic Park and you have to tell me when we are running from our DEATH!'

"You did ruffle their feathers during that one case."

"Ppphhh," Shawn blew a raspberry.

"I had to promise not to tell you because every time we appear there is a case that apparates around us in the entertainment industry!" Gus explained.

"Perfectly valid reasoning not to tell me until now." Shawn responded.

"I'm sorry." Gus apologized.

"Gus, don't be the unpleasant apologizing whiny guy in a slasher horror movie!"

There was a high pitch yelp with Shawn tripping over a exposed tree root and falling down a hill alongside Gus.

Grunts and groans rolling during the long fall that resembled a slide which gave out at the end as the sound of bullets became distant. Articles of clothing torn by exposed sticks. They landed there resting on their backs. Earning concussions respectively on each of their heads knocking them out for a while.

Their heads were pounding when they started to come to. Sunlight stinging their eyes. Facing the horror movie vibe in the pale and nauseating experience that chose them specifically. Being rudely invited to a slowly dwindling bloodbath full of uncertainty.

Shawn lifted up then landed on the dirt over a groan.

Gus stretched his hand out then took Shawn's hand and gave it a squeeze.

They were still alive and holding onto each other as if fate had no business getting between them.

"Maybe we lost them and they stopped searching for us." Shawn was optimistic.

"How can we go back there without them there?"

"I..." Shawn started, rotating his mouth from side to side figuring out a plan that came out in ease as he relaxed.  "We do it slow and build new relationships."

"Those two were one of a kind." Gus reminded the fake psychic.

"Yeah.." Shawn remembered. "they were."

Shawn closed his eyes remembering the event, the head detective, beat cops, Buzz, and O'Hara. Being under their protection due to their involvement on a case, or do they concluded after Henry's late night murder. The evidence was all over the place pointing that way with evidence left for them. Taunting them like never before. 

Still aching his heart the day after approaching his dad's place and seeing cop cars and Lassiter there as acting chief turning toward him wearing a grave expression that became angry and irritated more than usual. All under the cloak of night as his heart leaped into his throat running towards the house seeing Woody enter with a gurney.

"The new chief might not be open or kind to you." Gus added.

"It's worth a shot to figure out a new normal, Gus."

"Going to be so sad."

"It is what they would want. Why do you think they entire department had all those guns for?"

"Wanting to display their military gear." Gus replied.

There was the sound of footsteps behind them and then they were tense. Then they were ripped apart and forced on their knees.

Shawn screamed at the round of pain that coursed through him. Gasping so inflicted in aching.

A gun was aimed at the men swaying from side to side as the two men froze staring at the barrel of the gun and a star ready to be born.

Their hands were lifted for a moment then proceeded to clasp them and beg.

"Shoot me first!" Gus begged.

"No, shoot me!" Shawn plead.

"Don't listen to him," Gus shouted. "shoot me first!"

"No, listen to me," pleading for the life of the pharmaceutical  salesman. "take me out and the police department doesn't have an consultant to optionally rely on!" 

Gus was crying, sympathetically.

"Shoot me first!" Gus demanded 

"Shoot me first!" Shawn insisted

"Shoot me first!" Gus cried.

Neither of them could stand the other being shot first and that is what made it hard to pick. The gunman was having difficulty.

"Shoot me first!" Shawn plead

"Shoot me first!" Gus begged, his voice breaking apart at the seams, heavily distraught. "I am a highly valued pharmaceutical salesman!"

"He is my entire world!" Shawn shouted, tearfully. "He is an innocent!"

Gus was blinded by tears looking over as his mouth hung open through the waterfall of tears then back.

"Shoot me!" Gus asked.

"No, shoot me!" Shawn demanded 

The gun swayed back and forth ever so slowly 

"Nah uh shoot me!" Gus insisted.

"No shoot me!" Shawn insisted.

"Shoot me and get this over with!" Gus demanded.

"I am guilty of lying, breaking in and entering, impersonation, identity theft..." Shawn began to ramble.

"Shoot me first," Gus plead. "I went along with it!"

"God has a beef against me." Shawn insisted. "It was my idea!"

"Shoot me first," Gus plead, again. "I enabled him!"

"All of it!" Shawn roared through the stinging tears. "Send me to talk to Them! Please, shoot me first! Please!" 

Talking like a man who wanted to face the great Creator willing to face cosmic powerful contempt and harsh discipline for his sins. Without Gus by his side being judged.. 

Gus saw the gun drift over toward Shawn ever so slowly.

"Pllllleeeeaaaseeee shoot meee first!" Shawn plead.

 Shawn's figure notably started to marginally relax and ease while not letting up begging to be shot first.

"He would've never done this if I never went along no matter how he called me out of work! I enjoyed every minute of it!"

The gun aimed at Gus then fired multiple times.

Shawn's jaw dropped watching his best friend fall then screamed in anguish as if everything about him was broken and his entire life stolen from him. A scream that vibrated out of his frame and every ounce of his guts.

"NnnnnoooOOooooOoooooooooOoooOoooooOooo!"

He charged after the fallen salesman clenching his nice checkered buttoned up shirt and cradling his hand as his best friend left him behind as he looked over him apologizing over and over and over.

"I am so sorry! I am so sorry! Gus! I am sorry,! I am so sorry! Gus? Gus! GUS! GGGGGGGuuuuuuuuss!"

His best friend was already fading away and fast bleeding out seeing Shawn still alive and well as the gunmen loomed over him wearing satisfied smirks on their faces and plans on their mind. What plans. Didn't matter. The apologies were unnecessary. He didn't need to. Because Gus didn't need them.

They didn't immediately shoot Shawn so they die side by side going together to the sweet thereafter. His body hadn't fallen beside him as demanded by gravity. He couldn't imagine being the one kept for whatever purpose that entertained them.  Unimaginable misery being left to survive for a few seconds before trying to murder the gunman. 

Shawn was still here. Alive and breathing in the flesh and upset and bloodied but still here. Holding his hand so tightly. One hand beneath his back and the other hand holding the aforementioned hand. His dark brown eyes facing those heartbroken sweet hazel lovely attentive eyes.

He was the first guy that Shawn trusted with revealing his bisexuality. His first kiss. Gus's first experimentation that ended in failure. They were required add on for one another like a phone that needed a specific app to operate. The men who were each others emotional support. The guy who had Gus's back in every relationship thinking of him. All the way to the end trying to make sure he didn't die trying his damn best to preserve something valued. Best friend ever.

Gus smiled at the little good deed that he had done.

Then he was gone leaving Shawn behind screaming his name.

Sobbing and wailing cradling the back of the corpse's head lowering his head pressing it against his chest on his arms. Almost screaming his heart out the way he were weeping. Loud and rough and horrific as if his soul was torn out aggressively. The wailing becoming annoying the longer it punctuated the air. Over excessive.

"Get the corpse and fetch it over to the pile of dead cops for the city to deal with."

Shawn dropped the corpse looking aside toward something that snatched his attention away ad the other men stepped forward.

"Preferably before they are discovered. Just like it on time."

The lifeless corpse was carried away.

The central figure responsible for all this stood satisfied at a long chase that saw its natural conclusion.

His figure was wrecked in sobbing and heartache that made his ribs ache.

"Like I said when this started.... When I am done with you, you will have nothing left."

Shawn's eyebrows furrowed.

"I was finally going to get married this year to the finest detective and then you..." pressing his fist against his mouth for a moment shaken stopping himself from exploding then closed his eyes. "Do you have the barest concepts to understand what you have done, Mr Eold Wolf?'

Wolf simply laughed in response to the waning.

"Perfectly." Was the reply.

He grabbed a big rock then turned around bearing his teeth wearing blinding rage dripping in madness and grief.

He was hit by the butt of a gun then knocked back landing on the grass where his best friend once laid. His deep purple plaid shirt with a equally as purple shirt was heavily stained in Gus's blood. His medallion that hung on his necklace coated in it. Engagement ring stained in blood. Hands heavily bloodied.

He removed the ring from the knocked out fake psychic's finger.

"Lovely trophy to my collection." Wolf remarked, then closed his hand.

Two other men arrived then lifted the dense man up and dragged him away.

Chapter Text

Curity was in the middle of eating lobster when one of his associates came in to the picture and sat down alongside him. 

"What is it now, Bimonbreaker?"

Curity looked over in a moment of annoyance facing the man with a tattoo beneath his neck made of triangles. 

"Gotta hear this." Bimonbreaker announced

The video played then Curity's gaze shot over toward it as his eyebrows lifted then lowered and had a loud laugh at the recognizable voice that took him way back to three years ago. He leaned back thoroughly tickled by the words. He leaned back then forward laughing as his laughter boomed through the restaurant clashing against the clattering and the murmuring. His laughter died the more that he found it hysterical and his laughter became hysterical. 

"That was mean," Curity flicked a tear. "really mean." Laughing so tickled and admired the gall of the caller. "Cruel, even!"

Bimonbreaker looked quite uneasy about the entire matter. 

"Think he crawled out of hell since his grave was disturbed..."

"Do you honestly think he would be able to talk with his throat cut?" was the question that was posed.

"His voice is really unmistakable!" Bimonbreaker replied.

"Could've decapitated him to make him stop laughing!" He rocked back and forth as his laughter returned. "If there is anything to be said, I see the dead wherever I go! Sometimes it's sudden! Milky white eyes, bloody, cold, pale, dirty, and so wounded! It's abrupt! Staring at me!"

"Do you see me now?" Bimonbreaker replied. 

Curity looked around taking it in scanning among the faces then faced him. 

"He doesn't haunt me anymore like that..." Curity's shrug was very small as he turned his attention toward the man. "not since his grave was unearthed by the private detective," then turned his attention back toward Bimonbreaker. "and the k-nine unit."

"Because you're not the only one who knows that he's gone." Bimonbreaker suggested.

Curity wore a smile that was dripped in a bit of insanity.

"Psychologically," Curity took a bite out of the lobster then chewed, swallowed, and cut out another bite, looking immensely happy then his voice became a cheerful tone. it might be the thing that make sense!"

"Can we put that corpse back?" Bimonbreaker asked.

"No." Curity declined.

Jared's chief of staff was browsing through YouTube when a video crossed through her lens. She flung herself forward spitting out what she was drinking and set the drink aside, hacking, smacking her fist against her chest, shaken, then hunched over the desk with a hack staring down at the strip of text that seemed wholly impossible to have seen first hand with a lovely string of text that could make someone be uplifted with very little effort changing the dynamics of the entire situation within mere minutes and clearing away all the muck in the air. 

It was a very short video. 

She cleared her throat then got up her feet lowering the iphone. 

Taking a moment before placing a call. 

"Chief Trout, the mayor would like to know about the progress of Shawn Spencer's file." Viktoriya asked. 

"He's still missing." It had a grave tone to it. 

Viktoriya was greeted by the line going dead then got up from the chair then proceeded to speed walking through city hall. 

Her steps were light and fast with simple thuds echoing behind her rushing on after the office passing by numerous city officials. 

"Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me."

"Did you hear about Crimea?" Dudance got in the way of the young woman. 

"Last year thing, Charles." Viktoriya stepped from side to side.  

"It's a yesterday thing but it's going to be one of those weird named cities tomorrow!"  Dudance replied. 

"Drastic action!" Her blue bright eyes flashed open facing the slightly older man who resembled Morris Chestnut. "That worrying is going to make you lose so many years off your life off focusing on Russia!"

 "You've been all silent about it."

"It's your opening line to start a flirt."

"It does crack the ice in a discussion between two people."

"No one genuinely cares about Crimea that much."

"Really?" His eyebrows shot up. "I doubt that!" So passionate about the matter. "It's the start of a terrifying nightmare."

"When Harry Potter gets another movie series then you got an opening line that people care about." Viktoriya patted on his chest trying to get out of the way wearing a smile in amusement.

"In like twenty years!" Stretching his hands out as he rattled them.

"They have to make a television series about the book, it's got a lot material that wasn't adapted."

Dudance turned away laughing then faced Viktoriya. He had his moments being an absolute charming sweetheart but this didn't have the right elements of a good day for him.

"They are never, ever, going to make a television series about Harry Potter!" The Russian folded her arms gazing at the man quite skeptically. "Ever!" Looking down upon her. "They just finished the saga a few years ago!"

"There is room for more interpretations." Viktoriya rebutted the reply. 

"No, there isn't."

"Purist."

"Harry Potter isn't Sherlock Holmes."

Viktoriya thought of Harry wearing the detective's hat which made her snort starting to laugh again leaning forward.

"You're so pure." Viktoriya replied.

"Rupert, Watson, and Radcliff are unmatchable and always the golden trio people think of, reboot or not, it's like recasting Doctor Smith and people thinking of the genuine article instead of someone like Gary Oldman!"

Viktoriya leaned forward laughing with a wheeze then leaned back and faced him, heavily tickled. 

"Most people do think of Gary Oldman!" Patting on his chest looking side continuing to laugh then faced him turning away walking around Dudance covering her mouth shaking her head. "Believe a colleague of mine had good taste!"

Viktoriya walked on past Dudance who glared back at her turning in her direction then followed. 

"That movie was hideous." Dudance shuddered closing his eyes at the nightmare that had been created then shook his head and his brown eyes flashed open resting his gaze upon her. "Point being," he was back in her way. "you have more interest in this issue." Tapping on his fingers. "Russia!"

Viktoriya looked wearing a smile at the mere mention of the nation that was a problem child that made life a headache back there living lie after lie after lie.

"Russia is always going to be Russia." Viktoriya replied. 

Dudance lifted his head up for a moment.

"It's your home land!" Dudance replied.

Her smile faced at the reminder that summoned a scowl of what once was a well harbored love for the nation. 

"Not since last year, Charles..." Denouncing her homeland, finishing the steps to citizenship, studying, trading in her visa for naturalization, and swearing off her land that had crossed a nice thick sovereign line. "not since last year."

Viktoriya pried herself from the company of her talkative and flirty colleague heading right up the stairs making a bee line to the office rushing up there largely observed by Dudance for a long moment. Dudance turned away then walked off. 

"You heard what they did with Crimea?" Dudance asked a guy passing by. 

Viktoriya continued her ascent until making it to the top then venturing through the wide and circular hallway rounding about. She opened a door then faced the secretary's office first who was busy playing Temple Run.

"Damn!"

The secretary lowered the phone down then up. 

"Is he busy?" Viktoriya asked.

"Go in." The secretary beckoned. 

The door was swung open into the large and vast office that was one of the homeliest place in the office. Looking nice and humble, simple, dressed in colors of blue, nothing too fancy that drove up the budget of the council or taxpayer dollars. A nice bookshelf full of the man's favorite books and trinkets of past events and things that mattered to him the most including a small pink cat collar with a golden bell on it. In the center of it all was the mayor reviewing legislation that had been sent to his desk leaning back into the chair combing through it wearing reading glasses. 

If things were different (technologically) having a tablet being able to at ease search for keywords that he was quite accustomed to doing reading the legislation sentence by sentence ever so slowly searching for typos. A screen in his face wasn't even right in her book. He was a book and paper kind of man that didn't browse too much on the phone.  Some people in her line of work had become so engrossed in those electronics that the switch from paperwork to screens was slowly becoming a commonplace scene. 

He looked so engrossed into the legislation that it was like she threw a grenade when the door clicked behind her and he was down to his feet, paperwork on the table, facing his chief of staff, all attentive. 

He leaned forward, concerned. 

"What is it?" Jared asked. 

"It's about the psychic, sir."

Jared leaned back as his face fell and he became quiet. 

"They found..."

"No, they haven't found him."

"Another lead found for our absent friend?"

"Have to hear it yourself."

Jared looked up as she joined his side. 

"Hear it?" Jared was flummoxed by the reply. 

He looked down watching her finger press on the button then the video played.

"G..G..G..Gus, is that you?"

He never met the man personally but the look on Gus's face easily said it was him. The voice sounded so uncertain, and, worried, between panting, which was a big dead give away that something was wrong when it came to the psychic. Being this out of breath was a very red flag. The video ended a few moments later then he swerved toward the chief of staff. 

It was jarring for the mayor processing it, he replayed the video over and over and over in a moment of shock and disbelief that became crushed and destroyed by something that was more powerful than that. Life. Life that emerged into the silence after a ring without as much of a big celebration behind him. Just sudden and abrupt without a round of smaller surprising things before that  culminating in that voice. 

"My God!" Jared's voice was soft.

"Holy Hell right." Viktoriya agreed.

"Where is he?" He turned toward Viktoriya, upset.  "Who has him? Has there been any progress made on his case so far? Has there been made a call to the police department? A ransom? What is his lousy excuse for going on a case without his friend? Who was he trying to help?" his hands rested on the desk. "And is he... okay?"

It was a lot to take in with the barrage of questions mixed in joy and anger and concern and so much worry for the young man.

"Jared, it's either a prank caller who got his hands on Spencer's phone or someone who can make a very good impression of his voice from being around him a little too long... or his killer who's haunted by his voice and can pull it off. There's no progress so far that has been made at the police department." 

Jared cupped the side of his face thinking it all over facing her for a long moment. 

"We don't know if he is really dead." Jared said. 

"The dog, sir." Viktoriya reminded. 

Jared looked aside then back facing her then leaned back into the chair. 

"That reaction.." Jared looked aside. "Is enough for me to believe..." he inhaled, tightly. "That bastard thinks he killed Shawn Spencer! Not a one in a million chance of a look alike who shares Spencer's name! His voice!" Shaking his fists in excitement looking up with a smile. "It's incredible! It's awfully rare!" Jared turned and faced his chief of staff. "It's the only thing that makes sense!"

Viktoriya put the phone away into her pocket nodding in agreement to the round of words that were so hopeful and optimistic that it was explosive in a kind and gentle way and sweet to the heart. 

"Viktoriya, call Harris back and tell him don't give up the hope." 

Jared wanted to believe so badly and she let him. 

Chapter Text

Gus made a call to his secretary finally handling the number back over to her. Holding out hope for so long and fielded by unnecessary calls after taking it back from her once Shawn had disappeared. So many spam calls that flooded the zone.

Giving quick and clear instructions about about calling him after he didn't answer those numbers.

"And Brenda."

"Yes, Gus?"

"You are being more helpful than it is ever being said being the middle man."

"It's my job."

"Your job doesn't include this. Thank you, bye-bye."

Standing in the silence that had been purchased by the psychic for them to process the changes dynamic of the situation that now held anxiety and precious time ticking away.

Gus paced away rubbing his face then halted mulling it over.

He turned off the phone then resumed the moment standing there.

Gus paused there with his back to the forest processing it all standing at a standstill figuring out what to do in this venture that he had been dragged right into.

Wolf knelt down to the figure set in the corner of the basement clasping his waist joined by two men behind him. He had a bat in one hand that was taped, very significantly, had barbed wire wrapped around it and decorated in spikes.  One half of the spikes were decorated in a sheet of crimson blood.

The side of the victim's face was quietly bleeding from being struck hearing small but substantial cuts that amounted to something.

He was in a faded dark blue hoody with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and an equally as blue shirt with his long hair cascading on his shoulders.

Mr Wolf wore a knowing gaze that was complete by a smirk made of amusement.

One of the men behind him had their head bandaged up and their arm in a sling bearing an uncanny unflattering resemblance to a very young Jeff Goldblum with the dark curly hair, youthful eyebrows, and unique brown  eyes. The blonde next to him has long messy hair that got in the way of the old time glasses that made him look 90s nerdy complete with blue eyes that would normally be inquisitive and kind.

"That call really benefited me in looking up your dear friend's current employment."  Wolf started, patting the bat gently against the palm of his hand.

Hazel eyes were fixated on it as he bore his teeth.

"If you dare..." Shawn started.

"We can't have another incident like today happen, again? " His eyes rested on the weapon then up. "Can we?.."

Shawn stared hatefully at those green eyes.

"And remind me why not? Being found and getting out of this house is really appealing than this prison cell with a stocked kitchen and dozens of movies in tapes and CDs and clothes."

The man's lips lifted betting the odds in his favor being unable to be caught facing the fake psychic. He was really good at this. Skilled at avoiding law enforcement in this part of the century.

"Mow everyone you love down a second time with prejudice." Shawn's eyes flashed open remembering the distressing fall of those he cared about and cared about. "And no one will connect the dots."

Or bother to. No one would, unless examining his social circle that swindled inexplicably and realize there was a serial killer running amok.

He looked at those green eyes in a moment of pain and suffering.

"Theoretical, if you went back into your friend's life.."

His heart raced at the idea of being out of this land of misery.

"Where would you fit in?"

The young man opened his mouth then started to close it.

"He works for a really good pharmaceutical company that is taking care of him really well, he has a girlfriend."

His jaw fell open in shock at the trinket of information.

"That last bit is on his Facebook page."

The fear and terror loosened around his heart.

"And he did say he could do without the bullets." Talking like a gentleman who was ending a conflict  but in such a aggravating manipulative way. "Are you really sure you want him to die over you a second time?"

The younger man was moved to tears at the harsh reminder of the man's death as he clasped his face lowering.  The mental scars of that day still haunted him.

"Dying for your problematic life?"

He looked up facing the red head, furiously tearful.

"He's a good cog in the machine that is ordinary and harmless and benign. Law abiding mind your business civilian."

Reminder of how good Gus had it being around for a simple inconvenience that could mess him up as Wolf continued talking.

"He's got a future here..." It ate him up inside how letting him in could possibly take that away from Gus. "so you honestly want to blow that up?"

"No."

"Making your friend not settle down,"

"No, no, no!"

"No wedding, no kids, no wife, no dog... " Swaying his hand in the air. " all these to come; Yet."

He was trembling in anguished rage.

"I said, no! Bastard!"

The man smiled getting up to his feet taking a few steps away from him.

"And did you hear about your lovely head detective has a child on the way." Clicking his tongue shaking his head and wiggling his index finger taunting him gazing down upon the figure.  "Just imagine his moms having to raise her."

"Shut up, Anthony Hopkins!" Shawn lashed out emotionally on a wreck. "Shut up! Shut up!" Crying between his tears as he started to sob. "Shut upppp!"

The kinda scream someone would have while bashing in a head meeting the crescendo of a emotional breakdown.

He fell down to his knees once a heavy weight stopped him from jerking himself forward so suddenly. 

"Let's see if you could fit in..."

He withdrew the phone then called back the number and set it against his ear.

"Good afternoon,  Pacific Nutraceutical Products, this is Brendan Swann, Burton Guster's secretary,  how can I help you today?"

Wolf laughed then hung up looking down upon the younger man.

"And he has a secretary." Wolf remarked.

"Plllleaaaase, stop." Came the begging.

"You look better without power behind your back." Wolf said then turned around and faced them walking away from the emotional mess behind him so casually. "Make the drive to the hospital."

"But Edfim is fine." Was the protest.

"Those wounds need a professional to deal with them."

"What about." Motioning over toward the crying mess.

"I will have someone tend to him later." Was the reply that soothed their concern and eased it.

He looked over toward the mess that looked pathetic as his attempts take him down from his powerful position in the company.

"All this.. for a kid who lost his dotting father, why, why, why risk everything for him?"

"Because he was a hard ass on his son!"He stepped forward frowning at the reply looking down rubbing his hand  "And you know what, that kid, that kid, that kid enjoyed being trained unlike me!"

The last word came out so so heavy, pained,.and exhausted.

"And you nearly murdered that boy too!"

"Collateral."

"He was NINE then!"

"He is not a problem anymore."

"That head injury?" Trembling in outrage still fueling him alive. "He will never remember his dad! Ever! The doctor said you took his past away from him!" He was cupping his waist again. "His eeeeevvveeeeeeerrrrrything!"

He stood there in the room for a long moment thinking it over as the men waited for him to say something. The kid had to live with it. That is what made it all so charming. Getting away without someone hunting him down later down the line.

His thoughts lingers on the sad little man.

"Let the sting linger." Wolf said.

The crowd went up the stairs in a single file line, steps creaking, lights flicked off, door shutting, then crumbling in the black. Chest heavy with guilt as he cried slumped on the floor for the lives that were stolen.

O'Hara turned in the direction of the pharmaceutical salesman sporting a dirty scowl aimed at his direction that was built off knowing him for a number of many years. Use that and mount it up to something in a thriving reassembled friendship that only just been recently came alive in light of the Shawn Spencer that appeared.

She saw him withdrew his phone starting to go through his contacts.  His dark brown eyes fixing on the screen ready to make a battle cry before the battle start itself had the begun. Ready to count his chickens in one out with them making a big fuss in the process before having done all that. Her big blue eyes flashed open in response to the scene that had started. 

O'Hara sped on toward Gus then snatched the phone out of his hand.

"Hey!"

"What do you think you were about to do?"

"Be a Leslie Nielsen."

"Liam Neeson."

"Same thing!"

"No, it is not the same thing. You are emotionally charged.."

"Compromised..". Gus correct.

"Emotionally compromised on a blinding situation where your best friend has turned out to be alive and you have have the number of one of the men who have him. You are no position to make such a call."

"What about you?"

"His ex!"

"And now Lassiter is?"

"His head is held above the water better than us!"

"He may look nice and calm and logical but you didn't see the guilt in his eyes as much as I did when I saw him for the first time in three years!"

O'Hara studied him for a moment listening to his emotional lash out 

"I hired private detectives to find him!"

His voice cracked pacing back and forth wearing a iron glare.

"I looked for him for three weeks before asking for help!"

O'Hara wore sympathy listening to him.

"I looked everywhere and now it turns out I couldn't find him because someone was keeping him in their house and he has been weighed down by guilt for not telling me anything!"

His face was nice and twisted digging into the mind set of the fake psychic.

"Scared if he brought me in then he would lose me forever because I would drive there without you or Lassiter."

"Would you do that!"

"For Shawn in the middle of work? Dropping everything. Breaking the speed limit."

"Bypassing your secretary like last time somehow."

"I would!"

"And lose you too?"

"It's been two whole years!"

She slightly tilted her head shaking her head looking at him in sympathy with her arms folded.

"Gus.."

"Without him there making me feel alive! He is a part of my heart! He is like a literal heart floating around--"

"Don't need to remind me of how he was a cartoon heart being absent this long." O'Hara interrupted then let him resume.

Gus smiled for a moment stopping in his ranting.

"Go on. You got more on this against your chest."

Getting it off his chest felt good.

"He's haunted every day losing hope that he could get out of this horror movie of a mess that is scary, upsetting, dark, and terribly bleak. It's a giant ball of tangled up tight knots that he can't get out of and he wants out."

O'Hara grabbed him by the shoulders looking up toward the salesman.

"We'll figure out our new normal once this is all over and where Shawn fits in." O'Hara's words carried assurance and confidence that everything was going to turn out well.

Gus looked aside swallowing hard then back.

"Trout thinks Shawn is dead as we did." Gus reminded 

If we don't find the remains and identify them and instead sees evidence that he is alive then he won't be thinking that. Very illegal and dark thoughts brewing in her mind about the disposal of the remains. Telling Henry about this mess.. it had to be done carefully in front of a living lie detector.

"We will tell Lassiter after we get Curity taken care of.. and then we start tracking Shawn down."

Gus inhaled then exhaled repeatedly as he proceeded to nod in agreement.

O'Hara withdrew the phone then stepped back and called Henry. Gus walked back into the black vehicle then hopped in and drove away far now hopeful than he was before.

"Henry Spencer."

"Ready to interview them."

"Is he there?"

"He left thirty minutes ago."

She heard the truck start from the other end of the call.

"On my way."

Chapter Text

Daylight poured through the city of Santa Barbara.

Bright and early in the morning that had been a nice refresher for those who called it home. A beautiful place that has nice beach front properties and perfect weather where snow barely touched the landscape making it a perpetual summer landscape.

Shawn awoke that morning lifting up from bed and sighed hanging his head. He should be feeling great and hopeful about his job hunting prospects moving on from Psych. The store was officially closing today and it was never going to be repented (or opened) which served as a downer. Hard to appreciate the last day.

He lifted up the depression pills from the table then cereal bar and a bottle of water. He swallowed the pills, opened the packet, then ate his breakfast in bed. He sat there for a long time. Resting in the silenxe that had no joy. Bleak and hard and imposing on him no entertainment.

He slipped out of bed then snatched a plaid including a white undershirt that had had a fading decoration and jeans. 

He held his head up high releasing a sigh.

He withdrew the phone then sent a text over to Gus. I'm going to Hawaii later today. You can't come with me. 

He set the phone onto the table the there was a ding. Gus put a frowning emoji.

Gus: The hell I am not!

He was already packing by now for a trip that he couldn't go on. 

Shawn rubbed his face leaving forward living in the middle of emotional ache. He combed through his hair letting out a pent up shriek of anguish that was distraught then threw the lamp against the wall. He couldn't even tell Gus without him being blown up as well. if he simply went missing instead of taking the cowardly way out and returned to the forest not bothering to turn. Was it cowardly? Chosing life over death? Over selecting being the emotional earthquake that would leave a enormous blast radius in their lives? He saw how up and close his absence had impacted them so he doubted it up by ten. 

No one could help him and all Lassiter could do was look at him in admiration, it was all in the ways, his eyes were the window to the soul, staring at him, like he were a well made and well loved soup that was fully appreciated. The detective despised him and only tolerated him due to being needed by the department for very hard to solve cases and personal matters that pertained to him. 

Shawn went to the bathroom then hopped into the shower. 

Shawn paid a visit to the old department. 

Leaning against the motorcycle looking up reflecting over something that was brilliant and bright from the inside. 

A sharp breath was exhaled then he leaned back and started the engine watching the head detective descend alongside O'Hara heading toward the red victoria crown vehicle Bright and radiant. He looked on wearing a smile that masked the immense sorrow then watched them and the ME leave off to a crime scene. Shawn wondered what the crime scene was going to be. Was it going to be another eccentric case that was bursting at the seams. 

Or was it all just a cold and plain old easy to solve case?

Shawn leaned back thinking it over for a moment then slid the visor down to the helmet. He drove away from the police department driving around for a while, hanging around at the pier, enjoying what was slated to be his last day on Earth, enjoying the nice weather, couples in love, kids, birds stealing hot dogs, and the likes of petty thieves. Just for two hours, Shawn did nothing as he just simply existed.  Gazing on with a squint at a guy about to propose to his girlfriend at the pier. 

He saw a young man having to break terrible news to his sister on the beach. 

He saw a kid staking out a establishment seeking out it's weakness. 

He saw someone hanging around the old building where Psych once was open. 

Someone was waiting and wanting help so he approached them then gave a card to them. 

"Call this number, this guy will help you." Shawn advised.

A vulnerable and scared young woman gazing up facing him for a long moment tucking aside curls of her golden hair. 

"Aren't you the psychic?"

Shawn sat down beside sliding his back against the building and sighed. 

"Truthfully, yes." Shawn confirmed. "But you know me, I am a liar, who believes someone claiming to be a psychic, when they lied about their gifts?" his words were harsh and bitter. "That's not hiring material and you know it."

Shawn got up to his feet. 

"Wait, wait!" came her plea. "I need help!"

Shawn closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly, sighing, his shoulders descending then turned around, facing her. 

"Not now in the position to help." Shawn said

"Dreawaisy Billword, Dreawaisy." was the response then his face sunk as his mind flickered across information. "I need help, Mr Spencer."

Shawn looked up and down as his jaw fell down then up facing the woman in the sunflower themed dress, his face falling, shaking his head, gazing upon someone who was in the bordering fringes of a nightmare. 

He couldn't even help her from her doom or try and help and get threatened in a matter of hours. He looked over toward the direction of the sun then faced her with his hands in his pockets. 

Shawn felt bile rising up his throat having to refuse the call of adventure as the more appealing case tugged at his mind. He felt sick just declining a request to help, it felt wrong, a part of him screaming, risks aside, to help her.

"We're closed." Shawn replied.

"Closed?"

"Been closing it for a couple weeks..."

"but I was told by a defense lawyer who you once helped."

"I need you to go visit this spot," he took out a slip of paper, jotted it down, using a pen, then handed it over. "With Behara," she looked down toward the slip pf paper. "just ask Lassiter for her," Holding up both hands, "she's got Georgie," he lowered his hands down to his side. "and your problem with Rudolph Curity will be over and you get to walk away from this alive."

She looked up tucking her long straying hair behind her ear as the wind was blowing harsh against her and her eyes marveled him squinting through the piercing rays of the sunlight that emphasized him.

"You really are a psychic." Billword replied.

"Do not tell Detective Lassiter how you go this information." Shawn requested.

"What should I tell him then?" Billword asked. "That someone slipped me a note."

Shawn inhaled so tightly then exhaled keeping his gaze trapped on her. 

"Unfortunately yes in this case." Shawn said 

"He is going to laugh at me." Billword said. 

"Tell him to ask his FBI contact about Robbins Bobbins Slobbins," Shawn began to explain, calmly, without the trace of anger. "it'll do the trick, he laugh, lean back, place the call, smirking, he'll ask, then he stack his feet of the table and lean forward as the very nature of this entire criminal becomes apparent. He will slam the phone on the reciever, startling you, call out  O'Hara, then take his flip phone out, start making another call, and then you will be on your way to a crime scene."

"Why don't you help me find out if the visions is true?"

Shawn's hands rested on his hips facing her. 

"That is preferable." Shawn replied. 

"But?..."

Naturally curious, it's what got her killed. 

"Today happens to be my assigned death day."

Her face fell so significantly shaking her head.

"Oh Spencer..." Billword replied. 

"Now go," beckoning his head aside bouncing his fists on top of another, annoyed. "get."

Shawn watched the young woman walk away then he sighed and leaned against the building during the hardest day of his life. Really quite upsetting. He hit the wall then shook his aching hand. 

Shawn drove all the way to his dad's place. 

Fairly a bit extended given he stopped at the nearest Culvers and ate some ice cream to nurse the hungry stomach and ate a lovely butter burger with two patties.

He saw the red Toyota crown speed off into the distance followed by several police cars heading off toward the route. 

His stomach felt better yet it felt incredibly hungry and the stress was eating at him. Shawn parked the ride then emptied out his stash of snacks and ate all of them to quiet the hunger. Shoving the empty bags into his pocket then sighing and resting the motorcycle against the fence. If there was anyone to ask for advice in this horrible situation and make him stop panicking then it might as well be his dad. 

He opened the gate then walked on up toward the house until being stopped by a fairly large box that he tripped right over. 

Shawn picked up the box, that was heavy, opening the door, a bit of a struggle, then sliding it open, navigating it away, and stumbling into the house. 

"DAAAD! Your Amazon package is here!"

Shawn moved into the kitchen then set it right there.

"Dad?" Shawn called out. "Are you here?"

His voice echoed through the house, looking on, anticipating, pausing, a long moment, waiting for a response.

"Daaaaaddd?"

He looked toward the back door waiting for someone to enter and chide him for snatching the box and make him get out. No one appeared so Henry had to be out fishing or at some race track watching the races.

"I'm about to do something illegal here, dad! Show up before I break the integrity of the box!" He waited for an awfully long time. "Okay, so you're definitely not here and I was just doing a Macaulay Macaulay Culkin Culkin."

It was a moment to briefly smile at then lower his gaze. 

Shawn withdrew his z-fold, swiped, checked his notifications, browsing through, then opened messages, and took a photograph of the box, then sent it. He tapped on the microphone setting.

"Dad, your Amazon package is here." Shawn started to say. "I brought it in to house and it is in the kitchen. I am pretty sure it's the new battery powered lawnmower you've been talking about getting, i'm opening it, i'll be mowing the lawn when you get your feet back out on land."

He shoved the z-fold into his pocket and gripped the edges of the box feeling for a weakness. 

His fingers traced around the top of the box then snatched out his swiss army knife and stabbed into it. Shawn tugged the knife down that made a satisfying slicing through tape noise. Something quite pleasant to hear.  

There was a ding that Shawn looked over and tapped on the audio message.

"Shawn, I haven't ordered anything all month." Henry's voice came from the device.

Oh.

Shawn froze there gazing down

Oh no.

It was the bomb.

"Tape it back up and put that box back on the front porch."

Shawn tapped on the microphone as his heart beat lingered in his ear heavy sound dwarfing every other noise.

"So the bomb was always meant for you." Shawn replied.

There was a terrible stench that came from the box as he turned his attention back.. and then there was heat and fire and darkness and horrendous pain that was fast but brief and the last thing Shawn heard was his short girly scream.

Chapter Text

The beat up yellow truck parked along the shoulder of the road then in a few moments, Henry was out of the yellow truck dressed in a nice detective suit. It was a somber matter that fit in nicely to the stakes of what the former detective was living in. It was all grounded in a cruel way stabilizing the retired detective down to the regions of life.

Life lost its humor in light of his son's absence that went on for too long.

It was time to move out and leave the house that was full of memories. Shawn should be there making new ones being a menace in the ass with his shenanigans that were persistent and cast a light into his life that was quiet bringing a circus into it.

Henry turned in the direction of the oncoming figure that was part of the lightning which made of Shawn and tugged him forcefully out of lying. She was irrevocably changed from knowing him in the long run.

She joined his side then they went to the treehouse.

Henry climbed up turn parted then curtains and saw everything. Snacks. A couple platforms to test a sniper rifle. Cans scattered all over the place. Plastic hot flavored potato chip bags slips of paper scattered with a picture of the beat cop from his wedding day wearing smiles. A list of things that was required and wanted so well orchestrated.

O'Hara knocked on the door, thrice, then withdrew her hand.

The door opened revealing a young woman who has brown hair as well styled similar to a hair style long ago, floofy, curved at the sides,  nice and thick. Not close to a pixie at all that it reminded Henry one of those hair styles from those black and white TV shows set decades ago still owing to these days various networks and cable channels and being distributed still on DVD.

"I am detective Ohaz duolingo and this is my Assistant Royce yautja."

"She is having a word salad kind of day." Henry began to explain. "My name is Henry Spencer, this is detective Juliet O'Hara."

"We are working together."

"Henry Spencer, why..." she leaned against the door frame. "that sounds...  familiar."

"Shawn Spencer is his son." O'Hara replied 

"We are investigating the attempted shooting of an officer that occurred a few short hours ago. Officer Carlton Lassiter."

"When did he get demoted?" Mrs Sandhover inquired.

"Three years ago when Chief Vick was let go." Henry replied.  "And so was my son and his friend."

"They left around the same time..."  Mrs Sandhover replied  "How can I help you?"

"We are under the impression the shooters were in the tree house."

Her face paled at the relay of information that has been given.

"Carl and Maxo's tree house?" She covered her mouth. "Those boys they haven't gotten into it since their close friend died three years ago in a freak car accident on the way to school."

"Drunk driving?" Henry asked.

"Hit and run." She paused for a long moment. "I was there when it happened."

She remembered the men hopping into the large black van holding someone drunk between their arms. Back then it happened a lot that the men hung out there having a campfire and camping out there. It all came to stop leaving devastation behind.

Men dragging their friend into the car, head hanging, still hung over, hugging the man like they would merely bags of potatoes tied together and rock that needed help and support getting back in there.  Cackling and laughing. A merry time that had simply continued. Better days.

"Damn bastard."

 She knew these men but ever since that day they hadn't shown up there none of them men on the street had. No one did step forward with the identity.

"It still haunts the child's family that they never got closure for that terrible tragedy."

Terrible terrible accident that made them stop drinking. The only one who stopped the driver from coming for one guilty as hell was the father of the child who had died. They had a psychological prison built of guilt that that sent him off to alcoholics anonymous and chains of remorse.

"We know perfectly how that feels." O'Hara replied.

"it's very intimate and vicious." Henry added 

She looked off toward the direction of the tree house.

"You're free to investigate the tree house.." she motioned her head over toward the direction of the treehouse. "the kids talk about taking it down but.."

"They don't got the heart." O'Hara knew how that felt and looked keeping an tether to a last standing link.

"It is a memorial to their best friend more than anything." Mrs Sandhover admitted. 

"Are you aware of people entering and using it since your kids stopped going in?" O'Hara asked.

"No."

Henry stared at her for a long time as did O'Hara that was dark.

"We believe the shooters are part of the reason why my son has been missing." Henry clarified to the younger woman.

"And you are lying." O'Hara added.

"We have reason to believe that my son is dead and they know who did it." Henry continued the line of thought.

"Oh ...oh... oh my God." Mrs Sandhover gaped then made a cross on her chest.

"So, does Detective O'Hara have to bring you in for hampering a police investigation and have you inside of interrogation for twenty-four hours?"

She looked inside toward the sound of her children playing then back toward the duo who looked somber as of the matter held grave importance. 

"It's a bunch of guys that my husband is friends with, but, they.. they .. they don't talk openly about killing cops!"

"People are more surprising than you give them credit for."

"I have friends who call them pigs but they don't go about don't that like that. My tree house!" Her eyes flashed open then leaned forward. "Are you sure it is from my tree house?"

"One of those guys tried to shoot down a good man," O'Hara answered. "not a terrible one, not the kind that give good cops a bad name, not a guy who had it coming for his bad police work: a good man." 

Henry wore a dark look that was cast upon Mrs Sandhover.

O'Hara took out a small notepad

"There is Mark Stairs, Baloo Yelloh, P'ye stethoscope, Richard Donahue, and Arthur Doors." Henry nodded not putting a word forward. "If you want to do that addresses I can give them to you in a minute. I haven't seen them since..."

"Since when?" Henry asked. 

"Monday. " Mrs Sandhover gazed on, worried.

O'Hara and Henry exchanged a glance.  The first shooting.

"Keeping a low profile." O'Hara noted as she turned her attention upon Mrs Sandhover.

"They would never hurt someone else unless.." she looked over toward them. "they were being forced to."

"We can do with the numbers if we do not find them at the addresses that you give us." Henry said

"They are all good men." Words contrary to what they tried to do. "They don't run away from the law enforcement."

Her view of them hadn't been tainted by the fact that they did the shooting. Incredible and admirable the mind walking over time to preserve that image and psychologically protecting itself. 

"You assumed they would not be easily swayed." Henry reminded, coldly. 

"Good men don't bend that way." O'Hara remembered Shawn thinking of all that he did when a life was on the line using himself as a meat shield in the field of distraction that would gent attention with the charade being ran. "Good men would sacrifice themselves in the hopes of sparing lives."

"Have you met a good man?"

"I meant one, I've known one ...I know one."

"That's not a cop."

"Not a cop."

"Not retired either."

"I know  a good man who is neither a cop nor retired."

"Is it the guy who was friends with Spencer's son?" 

"I'm not talking about Gus."

Henry looked over O'Hara at the mere mention of a good man that was very specific. It was very few people that she knew who were good men.

"Just write it down. Please. We'll have forensics up here very shortly."

Mrs Sandhover walked away quickly leaving the door ajar.

"Is it someone from the FBI?" Henry asked.

"This man is not in the FBI, Spencer. He's the kind of guy you want in FBI though."

"How long are you dating?"

"We're not dating."

"It's okay to move on from him. We found him. "

"What did we find, Spencer?"

"His remains."

"A corpse without a wallet or a phone."

"That canine unit smelled him there!"

"Dogs can be wrong." O'Hara dismissed. "it could be just picking up old sent from him being there once."

"A dog dug him up and you're suddenly believing that someone has a chance of being alive." Henry's skepticism went over in overdrive. 

"It always a chance when someone is missing." Her voice was hopeful more than it had been in the last three years, happier, looked happier, sounded happier. "Your thoughts along so is your gut so is every single bit of evidence."

"His remains were found." Henry reminded the detective. "Missing his engagement ring."

"A corpse that is missing..." O'Hare recounted over the detail. "I don't know if that man was Shawn!"

That was a big alarming fat lie. 

"O'Hara.." Henry was shaking his head, concerned.

"We can't even be sure that our guess is correct." O'Hara continued.

Henry faced the detective really hard as one thing became quite honest.

"Something came up and you are not talking or being honest which is very insidious from the most honest woman in this city. Have to be with recoiling inside speaking out lies!"

"Henry....." O'Hara started. "What is the chance that we're wrong that Shawn is dead?"

Henry laughed at the remark. 

"Possibly of Shawn of being alive and well...." Henry said

"Not unharmed but alive and upset." O'Hara specified.

Henry's head whipped up facing the detective.

Henry was stopped with those single set of words that would not made out of what ifs speculation or anything it sounded like the damn honest truth and it was a lot to take in despite everything that was screaming at him saying his son was dead.

"Is astronomical." Henry was frank on the heart of the matter. "He can't live without Guster for that long. It would tear his heart up like paper and throw him like confetti. Like a toddler having fun inside of him and it hurts like hell."

O'Hara sharply inhaled lowering her gaze then lifted it facing him.

"What we need to think about is that he is still here among us." O'Hara said.

It was a very chaotic moment in his mind that fit when it came to Shawn perfectly. But his son was dead and this was a very disorienting conversation.

"Before we continue the search for Shawn whether it be his remains.... we need to find Curity and get rid of him..." Her eyes flashed open resting her hand on his chest. "legally."

Mrs Sandhover returned with a slip of paper then handed it over.

"Thank you." O'Hara thanked.

The pair turned away then sped off.

Chapter Text

Henry was driving back to the house speeding fast as he could. He saw smoke in the air drifting into the sky.

"so the bomb was always meant for you."

 

A stunning line that took a lot of the former detective's heart right as he stepped foot out of the boat. A few words that made him start running for the ford pale yellow explorer  leaving behind the boat. Running fast as he could and speeding fast as did wheels acted as his feet. If things were like the Flintstones then his feet would be leaving a long crater behind and stopping traffic and a trail of rock behind him.

The visual of his son and Gus in equally as ugly fur coated outfits that were not as bright as his as enough to cause a little laugh. Hysterical images crossing his mind in a terrifying situation. His heart leaped into his throat.

He was passed by a ambulances and police cars and the red Victoria crown heading to the scene of the crime. A loud blast that somehow was picked up by the department. Firetrucks speeding on another route. Henry's window was rolled down listening to the sound of chaos.

The yellow beat up truck came to a halt as a fire man ran toward his burning house. Henry unbuckled and bolted over toward the house but was prevented by the head Detective's presence acting as a living road block.

"That is my son in there!"

"Spencer, the chief sent me here to stop you?"

"He is my son!"

"If he has a chance then he needs you out here!"

"My son!!"

Henry was screaming watching a fire man come back watching him hold a limp figure in his arms. Water being sprayed at the house witnessing the elements of a tragedy staring right back at him. If he only answered the text message with a phone call then his son would still be there. 

The figure was set there on to a gurney then set there. He was missing an arm. Scorched with sever burns decorating both sides of face that had some bine exposed. His hair nicely singed laying there on the gurney still bleeding.

"Where is his right arm and right foot?" The paramedic asked

The firefighter stared down upon the unresponsive figure.

"Oh!'

From afar was a man wearing a  very fake beard and wig pretending to read the newspaper.

"Find it if possible!"

"Goddamn it! We are going back in there!"

"This is by far the most cruel bomb aftermath that I seen!"

"What was in it?"

"Bullets and screws." Words that causes the man to become pale.

Henry was dumbstruck by the reply as Lassiter turned in the direction of the scene with his jaw falling open.

"He is gonna make it." The paramedic looked right up toward the guessing firefighter. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

Words that took the firefighter back about the warning.

"He is the psychic who saw this coming..have to assume he did throwing his life away just to prevent someone else from opening it. Needs a break for doing that."

 "He looks really bad." The paramedic said.

Henry backed off then drove back for the police department to look through his case files.

"What is his odds?"

"There isn't a great chance that he will pull through."

The firefighter rushed back inside as the bearded man in a trench coat lowered the newspaper then looked over keeping his youthful eyes on the inanimate figure from ahead. He watched the firefighter return with a foot.

The figure was loaded into the ambulance then driven away. 

The figure lowered the newspaper then folded it as Lassiter looked back and forth not knowing what to do. Only to rub his face taking in an inhale joined by O'Hara who was making the call to Gus regarding Shawn. Lassiter didn't know what to do pacing back and forth in enormous void left behind by the psychic who hadn't been kidding.

The figure moved fast and took a small little stolen driver's ex car driving off to the hospital. Getting there then spotting the blueberry already in the middle of parking. The pharmaceutical salesman wore concern and fright running into the scene.  The figure withdrew his disguise revealing a young man with freckles decorating his face taking contining to take photographs of the scene

He looked over toward the letter by his side that had been written awhile ago. A request to help the department drum up leads so no one else would lose their lives if this was part of a broader target that would instill tension and fear along the community. His eyes gazing toward the hospital.

He had a name tag that read Skyler Floofpants resting on the dashboard. He was not the kind of guy who took up close and personal observations of ongoing stories but...he was asked  and promised the jumping pad of a career. Even handed over a location that was a bigger story that he could not share. He already knew about the details of the forest. He knew of the dangers behind it.

His green eyes resting on the door and took more photographs.

He was an investigative journalist with  exceptional skill acquiring details of the scene.

He drove back then hit the road until finding that yellow beat up truck back on the street heading toward a hotel. Skyler followed him indiscreetly keeping his distance. Pulling right in then parking, taking out boxes that were full of files, opening a door, heading into a room, then bring box after box in. Taking photo after photo.Henry looked furious in a calm way in all of them.

A green Cadillac parked nearby then a man wearing a sun hat and another man without hair got out wearing gray matching jackets partially fully zipped jacket then entered the room. Somber, really grave appearing in their friend's time of need. A few minutes ticked by that turned into an hour. Skylar drove out and returned back to the road.

He went to the hospital and found the psychic's room. Lifted blinds. Revealing the sorry state of affairs.  His best friend listening to the doctor then screaming at him and gesturing toward him as if he were still there. Not gone... He still had a heart beat. If there was a heart then there was hope. 

The doctor stared back at the man quite apologetically.

He thought about taking a picture for a moment then dismissed it.

He was joined by another figure who stared at the scene for a long moment then walked away leaving a soft trail of footsteps.

A man was counting on him to make the perp know they were on his case and they were going to crack it open raw and find him if he doesn't turn himself in. Or lead everyone on a tense crime thriller adventure that lead to his arrest. Both of these situations were terrifying as the results that could unfurl taking either of these paths full of promise of darkness or closure. Dark options.

A threat issued as a story that was requested to be written that way.  A scarlet letter to protect those that were deeply loved. A scarlet letter asked to be be written by a scared guy last night. Asking for help from an outside figure. Someone who made things right and helped them pursue the investigation further as that one domino. It was a bad idea, Floofpants knew, he was out of good ideas, someone had to have their back, time wasn't on his side.

Who was he not to accept that scared hand stretching out of emotional flood and yank them out of it?

Definitely not Skyler Floofpants.

Chapter Text

The pharmaceutical salesman got off of work and came to the black vehicle spotting not a man resting on the engine hood or back against the window. A welcome sight to see reminding him the nightmare was impending to be over.

Calm and nice sight to see as the sun was starting to set a great distance. Trees swaying gently in the aor beneath the warm weather. The private detective hired by an outside party had done due diligence and his purpose here was effectively over. He was right in the end.

That little annoying nudge to do some investigating that required getting everyone into mental shape for the big shocker so they could see him again.

Gus took out his phone and then dialed the number for Charlene. 

Resting the phone against the side of his ear and he paused along the side the vehicle. 

"Charlene Charlamagne."

"You want to know about my childhood friends I had one," then corrected himself as he opened the door and hopped in. "I have one."

"But you said you have such few friends from your childhood."

"One that's like my soulmate but he's the right kind of chaos you would want to be part of the family."

"Sounds like a good deal to me." Charlene remarked, he could hear her rub her belly. "He makes you happy then I'm happy."

"Good because he's a psychic and his name is Shawn Spencer he's going to be back in my life and I am so excited to introduce you to him. Don't mind him if he starts investigating you that: that's his thing."

"Oh I thought you would never ask! I've had my self prepared for it investigated."

Gus looked aside alarmed by the reveal as he frowned.

"Is it a common thing?"

"It's just that..." she cleared her throat "my past is spotty and embarrassing."

"Has to be more embarrassing than the things that I've done in the name of consulting with the Santa Barbara Police department."

"Oh you're on!"

"How about we have this discussion back at your place?"

"Kids are having a sleepover. How about your place? I have a babysitter hired."

"That's fine by me."

"I got a arrest record."

"That won't scare me away," he looked aside giving it some thought. " maybe Shawn."" Facing the seat beside him imagining Shawn giving a time out gesture. "but it won't make me speed off."

"I've actually been waiting for you because it feels like we haven't really been talking about our respective pasts..."

Gus drove out of the parking lot excited heading towards a better tomorrow and a much more hopeful day built out of the suffering of his friend trapped somewhere. Suffering that was not going to last forever. Something that was going to end.

Imagined Shawn beside him better and himself maybe a bit older. Baggy eyes. A heavy ounce of immaturity. The future that was at his fingertips coming back to him even after thought it was lost. It was glorious. 

Shawn was coming back and that was the reason enough to make strides on a relationship he was an integral part of it no matter what was going to change between them. No matter the lengths they went to figure it out where he fit in Gus's new life. Maybe Gus could propose to her tonight. Try to have his own kid ( after she had her baby) several weeks after delivery. Make it known that Shawn was part of the family to sides of their family.

Gus had a reason to smile for the first time in a long time.

Shawn was still helping him even cannot be there.

Henry went to his son's old bedroom.

Asides to very little changes that Shawn did updating it his very brief return changing it from teenager appropriate to maturing adult. Moving stuff into the attic that now had to be sold by now as Henry decided the best guy who needed it was the beat cop who was thriving and his family had a chance of being back together.

Henry thought about the chances of a premie entering the house, being good air, perfect weather, good house that was safe and had no mold. Everything about it was known and meticulously documented. A wonderful view of the beach. White picket fence. It was the seller of a lifetime.

He rubbed his hand on the bed the bed thinking it over. 

His son was excited and talking about starting a family.

Making comments about it was perfect to raise a family as he started to breach the subject.

A painful throbbing reminder that made his heart ache.

The offer. More so the request that Shawn buy the house and move in with his family. The shock and surprise then becoming serious and excited all over again. He had so much to live for. All that in his last day where he promised he would talk to O'Hara about it later. A warm memory that contrast when they last parted for a decade. A better one that mended the bitter wound making sure Madeleine didn't lose her spot on Shawn's heart.

Henry looked out watching the sky turn to black ever so slowly and the ocean sparkled beneath the the crescent moon's soft gray glow.

He don't feel Shawn in the room..He never felt him in those three years wondering and searching for him. And waiting for him to show up.

The room was generic. No mark of Shawn left in there. He walked up and left the room leaving nothing behind wearing a grin.

Henry got up then descended down the stairs that softly cracked beneath his shoes and headed toward the kitchen where he prepared dinner.

This time he felt different doing the routine.

Yelloh watched the police cruiser appear then park in the hospital driving lot.

The bright lights of the siren of faded into the night. He was late more like then before. Lassiter look cheerful that was a sharp contrast to how he wore a perpetual scow to that cold gaze on his eyes. Got a smile on his eyes and clashed against that coldness that was well known.

"We're damned, you know." Doors whispered.

"At least they are not going to blow up on the news." Stairs replied.

"We are going to be crucified on the news for this." Yelloh was somber making the comment.

"We got very little option since helping Curity add that woman's body to the mass grave." Donahue recognized the center of the predicament with bitterness in his voice.

"Should have stopped him when he was talking to the chick on the home." Yelloh whined.

They all should have done something back then move it and being in this position that no one not even God  would forgive them for. It was the perfect place to make a killing. The most unexpected place being so left field. Perfect ideal place to finish what was asking them.  Setting up that crime scene with no easy accomplishment taking out a model that they all liked.

That apparently was not so easy part now was even harder but it was awfully easy in light of sudden pain that was ahead of them. A tall building of sanctuary in hospitality was now said to be a place of certain dooms for only a party. Fear, chaos, and terror. Right in the middle of surgery being interrupted by assuming. A gun fight that was going to be one-sided. 

What was laughable was how a beat cop paid little attention to the surroundings for the fleet of cars. But when actually when you think about it no one did so it was an easy thing to miss. Special ingredients of a tragedy. Sprinkling it all over the place. 

It was so easy yet it was hard on them doing it. Something that can make a man sick requires something to help him keep it down. The hardships gone through getting into this position that tugged their hearts was going to end as well as an anxiety. 

"Why did he have to kill the psychic that way?" Doors asked, looking aside. "We could have held him hostage and had sent them on a wild goose chase that we were going to release him. And instead made them watch him kill the guy on live stream."

"He doesn't work that way with someone as irritating as that psychic." P'ye remarked. 

".. it would just fuel hm to be more annoying." Doors agreed.

The beat cop came out of the hospital answering the phone and remained still listening to the progress report. Standing there gazing out toward the night sky below the warm white bright lights that were lit up behind him.

They watched him hang up then return inside hospital into the brightness the the doors opened.

The men unbuckled then got out of the car and got out following after him setting up the worst day of his life and preferably Curity's preference was it be his last day.  The beat cop lived on borrowed time purchased by the psychic for him.

The men walked on toward the hospital. P'ye gazed down at the directions that had been for given  for Marlowe's room number. The pair being reunited in the sweet thereafter ending heartache did have its appeals.

"You know, something, boys..." P'ye started

Not a lot of people hated cops to be willing to do the dirty deed. Many had hearts and sympathy for them who dealt with people on their worst day.

"Enlighten us." Doors said. 

"I hate pigs." P'ye said.

They entered the hospital with Amazon boxes as Lassiter was on the phone with one of his moms.

"And you are asking me if I am going to name the baby before they are born."

"Honey. You haven't even checked the baby's gender."

"It's going to be a boy and his name is going to be Thomas Shawn Lassiter."

"After that psychic..."

"He'll wear it better."

"Sweetie.. we love you but have you bought boy stuff for the baby?"

"Yes and my mind is made. I love you, mom."

"Love you too, Carly baby."

Lassiter lowered the phone then faced a rifle and then it went to black. Pure utter darkness fo the longest time as if the show had ended right then and there.

When he came to, he was loomed over by O'Hara who looked scared holding his hand and light flashing across his vision.

"Carlton, you've been shot. Marlowe is gone. They delivered the baby early. It's a girl.'

His heart aches and burned and he tried to speak but instead a scream of upset high pitch disoriented anguish. Anger and heartbreak at abandoning his own blood potentially like his dad did in the field. His moms raising her.

No.

Unacceptable.

He was going to be in her life and part of it. These menacing bullets were not going to stand in the way.

"The whole department is looking for them."

Words of promise.

"We will find them!"

Squeezing his hand.

O'Hara withdrew wearing a look, hunger for vengeance. Thunderous vengeance. Loud and booming.

His only thoughts are to his baby girl, small, bring very pink, crying for him, and scared more than he was in this terrifying ordeal. He had to cling for her. 

Then a mask was over his face and he fell into a deep slumber falling into the darkness as the surgeons tended to him. A flicked of recognition. He investigated one of them for murder once.

Outstanding surgeon in the field of fetching bullets.

Shawn cleared that guy years ago during the hard days of the divorce. Still having his back long after he was gone.

Chapter Text

The door to the basement opened then light poured in.

The flick of a finger and light lightened the basement up in a bright way.

Highlighting the details that featured a door leading into the bathroom, kitchen poked on the side across from the bathroom, a bedroom parked nearby that had the door wide open, a washer and dryer, a vast wide closet downstairs and films ranging from DVDs to video tapes and alongside that was a well-kept closet and drawer. Nice long tan sectional couch rested in front of a widescreen television set sit on the wall with towards dangling from below connected to a DVD player and VHS player. A nice and decent bookshelf out that had not been touched in years well covered in the field of dust.

Drewisy descended down the steps, cautiously, weary. His short dark curls bouncing with Wolf behind him. A young woman descended the steps behind the pair holding a medical kit gazing down into the inside of the basement. Their steps were quiet and well thought out with heir gazed fixated on the figure that was laying horizontal.

It was quiet as Drewisy held his hand up then finished the descent and arrived to the side off the figure laying there all so still.  Slowly but surely the others joined as he kicked the man's foot. His skin looking nice and pale.  Wolf groaned turning away as it began to dawn on him.

"He is a better actor then I credit him." Drewisy remarked.

"He is dead you idiot!" Wolf shot back turning toward the man getting all up in his face. "You killed him with my preferred weapon of choice in the heat of your rage."

Wolf turned away from the corpse but letting Drewisy face it

"Uh, why don't you steal another version of the himbo still in that weird ankle cuff?"

"There is a fork in the road when it comes to him." Wolf remarked pacing back and forth.

"Mr Wolf.." Olha started.

"Mariam,"

"It's Olha." Olha remarked. "Mariam is my twin's name."

"Start wearing your hair up so I can see your face clearly."

Olha looked unimpressed by the request with her messy long cord like hair in her face. Her brown eyes resting on the figure 

"You need new glasses." Olha stated.

"Wait on the back door patio. Your service is still going to be needed."

Olha went upstairs then closed the door behind he leaving the two men behind.

He looked off in a moment quite confounded by the problem.

"A fork in something easy as this?" Drewisy asked.

"Do I make the sting worse by barging in and snatching him at the scene where everyone is dead... including us."

Drewisy winced at the prospect of being killed by the fake psychic with the giant weight hooked on to him. Terrible way to go and bloody yet he had no problem picturing it in an exaggerated way, fast, effective, messy, and ridiculous, dropping it for good measure then climbing up the stairs.

"Everyone in his social circle extremely dead."

Drewisy looked off toward Woolf.

"And dump the remains there."

Well with that in mind it did sound like a good idea when it came to getting rid of the useless piece of meat.

"Then make him watch me kill one of two very young men just starting a business.". Rubbing his hands together, devilishly. "It has its appeals."

"Or uh.." Drewisy turned away facing his employer. "Steal the guy who I didn't go overboard on and still stung."

Wolf mulled it over

"Everyone is dead for some reason." Drewisy added. "Randomly."

"Like an old 20th century production.".Wolf said "Dead lifeless dolls that look fine."

Slowly, the younger man nodded at the comparison that had been drawn.

"Everyone but him." Drewisy continued then finished gesturing back toward the corpse. "And dump the corpse there."

Wolf frowned by the response that was painfully simple and not giving it a lot of thought. 

"You forget he will have a fighting spirit and he will be using that big iron ball as a weapon." Wolf reminded, sharply.

Drewisy squinted back at the older man for a moment.

"Boss, are you sure this hasn't happened before?" Drewisy asked.

"First time." Was the admission. "Prepared to win for so long deeply studying the man and his various escape methods..."

A small 'ooohhh" came from Drewisy.

"When his friend was with him," he looked over toward the corpse remembering his brave actions. "He had nothing held back... or lost him, he had nothing left to lose. Very dangerous man to face alone.. "

"What makes it different from your idea?" Drewisy replied.

"For starters he saw him die again and too busy to attack again while wailing." Wolf remarked. 

"If we steal that guy it won't  be chronologically close enough!" Drewisy remarked.

"They have to find him somehow." Wolf reminded motioning his hand over to the shell then lift down his gaze up. "Why not peer into what would've happened? How he found out where we are and made the call."

Drewisy groaned lowering his head, his arms folded, sighing, squeezing his eyes close so tightly.

"Boss, it's a stupid idea and I am an idiot who makes stupid ideas." Drewisy said.

"It is the most sensible idea!" Wolf protested.

"Never mind your idea making him feel more powerless, it's a good idea if we had that confrontation, he got hurt in the gun fire, died in the car then you wanted to replace him and have that weird power thing over him." Then held his hands up shaking his head. "No complaints."

"Harsh but fair criticism." Wolf replied, swaying his hand turning his attention back mulling it over. "...Will take your words under advisement."

Drewisy looked over toward the motionless corpse that rested there without a voice to speak on it's behalf. Alone. No one to care for it looming over. No one there to mourn, actually.

"Gonna have to make the call fast before the corpse starts smelling." Drewisy said.

The decision was made in a moment.

"The idea is good." Wolf replied.

Drewisy wore disagreement plain as sun then shrugged it off and sighed heading up the stairs.

"Whatever you want, boss." Drewisy said.

"Not my idea, idiot!" Wolf replied, leaning forward hissing, his eyes flashed open, irritated, then rested a hand on his chest. "And my idea!"

Those eyes stared back at Wolf in awe and marveled at the plan that seemed to be conflicting together but there was a working mechanism in his employer's mind.. And he had complete faith in him despite the overwhelming chaotic nature of it.

"But how in that chaos?" Drewisy asked, stroking his chin in wonder. 

"Finding out how the worst possible situation for both parties happens!"

"Ooooh!" Drewisy snapped his fingers starting to grin. "That's brilliant."

"Have my moments!" Wolf was thrilled wearing a charming smile, swaying his shoulder from side to side, laughing, cheerfully.

His moments were as fleeting as a cloudy day and pools of sunlight poking through the cloud cover occasionally but in a sinister nature that had brilliance written into it. All that was good in a horrible note. Piercing the darkness for a ray of crime that was the bane of law enforcement and nightmares. Light that could sting and harm and maim with its destructive touches like it could for some vampires. Pure and untainted.

"We're taking the short cut to find out what we shouldn't do." Drewisy repeated what was going to be done.

An idea that was so good it could pay off in the long run.

"It is called cheating." Wolf was mighty proud of the decision that was safe. "Go upstairs and tell the others the plan."

"Really brilliant.." he headed up the stairs gripping the wooden railing. "I love that chaos."

It was a matter of minutes that the corpse was lifted and carried over through the wide and vast forest. It took some doing before finding the right exit for Wolf to beckon the men on then pastor glance back in the direction of Drewisy.

With that look exchanged, he watched the younger man go off into the forest looking on for that specific exit. A daring quest that had significant chances of his death. He was going to return, that was certain, very certain, enough to be super confident, as a variant or the same guy.

Wolf waiting for the exiting the forest onto the road where he saw fleets of cars had parked open crashed into one another. Life had simply frozen in its place I only sound like birds calling in the air. Vultures another type of birds and scavengers were having a feast. The further that he walked the more that he saw felines appearing around the remains. No wonder when people's remains were absent in zombie movies the ones that didn't get turned had their remains eaten by the local wildlife.

He walked on following the duo carrying the corpse while another carried the large ball with such ease for it being 36 pounds. Then again that guy was heavily muscular as a few noted members of his security were. He carried on following them back to the house taking his time. The less that he spent here the less likely time would impact him.

"What are you doing out here, Mr Eold Wolf?"

"What am I doing here? The same should be said about you, mr.."

He turned in the source of the voice that belonged to a man somewhere around his age in a white fancy suit, he had brown eyes, black hair, an attractive face, aging lines, and he looked about jarring being this friendly.

Patient eyes faced him.

"Well?"

"Private matters."

"It isn't..." His hands were in his pockets gazing forward. "Oh..." his brown eyes flashed open in alarm then descended. "I see..."

Wolf stepped forward. 

"See what?"  Wolf asked. 

The man dressed in white shook his hand turning away approaching a car. 

"Pretend you never saw me." was the unexpected request. 

"Who are you?" Wolf asked. 

The stranger can feel his piercing glare resting on him with his back to him and opted to speak on why he was there.

"Mourning.." he walked over to the side of a car then peered in to a car, hands on his knees, that had a hole and empty dog carrier. "It all happened so fast.." His hands grazed the window as he went to the driver side peering into the corpse of a woman who was in the process of being eaten by two cats that had sneaked in."under my careful eye."

He waved his hand then the mirror became foggy giving some grace in the silent clean up. The sound of the breath of the dead. Soft and gentle and a nice breath that needed to be released as if it were their soul. 

"no bomb, no weather related issue, no chemical, they all just..." He stood up then faced Wolf, his voice nice and soft, gentle, yet sad, and worried. "Fell.."

The well dressed man in white with a vest and a dangling glittering watch decorated in diamonds spoke bitterly yet sadly in confusion gazing down upon the fogged up window mulling it over.  Standing in the aftermath of an inexplicable global tragedy

Like a giant ship's engineer who had seen the great collapse of something that gave up the ghost after carrying the spirit. Something great and enormous, beautiful, and magnificent had ceased moving, as if the engines had ceased to work, all the occupants had vanished, leaving only a well prepared ship for guests. Something that had passed in Grace.

"Went to heaven and hell."

The man in white was dusting his hands off then leaning against the side of the car.

"Pity."

"Humanity had its chance here.." Wolf said. "not a pity in the least."

The man in white faced him leaning against the side of the car rapping his fingers on the roof.

"Apart from some stragglers." The stranger shrugged it off. "Strangely like you."

Shawn.

"Hey,  bossy guy!" came the distant cry from afar. "Are you coming?"

"One moment!" Wolf shouted 

"Best join your men." Was the advice parted.

"I ask again. I don't have a lot of time to spend in here... Who are you?..."

He stepped forward facing him wearing nothing but love, for all the ugliness, then smiled, cupping the side of the older man's face. Admiring him as if he were some well carved out sculpture.

"You know who and what I am, Wolf. The new one on the block at least."

Those brown eyes became so devilishly as if the shadow of heaven stood there in front of him then it flickered to something awe inspiring.

His green eyes flashed open in shock facing something heavenly and celestial and forgiving and so much love that the mere touch became noted as affectionate radiating in power that vibrated through the man's face. 

"The devil!" Wolf shouted 

Wolf staggered back then God was gone.

He swallowed, hard, stumbling, back, heavily disoriented walking quite awkwardly looking back then running off joining the men.  If one ventured through the forest long enough they would meet the devil and have a disturbing conversation. A scarlet warning about misusing the forest that manifested long over due. A looming and powerful force that had no taste for his soul for that day. It was a long walk avoiding the corpses and the numerous cars. 

They arrived to the house then Wolf opened the door and ventured in finding the well off mansion intact save for his dead body at the bottom of the stairs. He continued the walk leading the crowd heading for the basement door. The door swung open revealing the psychic climbing up the stairs then gazing up toward him, wide eyed, face still bleeding, the side of his face checkered in marks from the bat, panting, five o clock shadow of a beard, facing him, squinting. 

Wolf held his hand out then was handed the bat. 

"One moment and we can have this handled very well." Wolf smacked him hard. 

The fake psychic was out in a moment resting on the floor. 

Wolf retreated then the two men went in and extracted the psychic from the steps.

The other corpse was  abandoned there in the center of the mansion then unshackled from the iron ball then the ball was left there. 

"One more thing before we leave...." Wolf peered into the basement and saw no one else was there then he withdrew and closed the door. "Now, carry him back to the house. And make sure to blind fold him! We do not need him freaking out when he comes to!"

"What about you, sir?"

"I have a visit to check on," Largely overdue. "it's a bit disturbing."

"Suit yourself," one of the men shrugged. "One of the boss guy."

They left him there to his thoughts. 

Taking in all the little details that were exactly like his place standing there. Time was strange when it came to traveling between worlds. Sometimes aging was incredibly slowed down and then it allowed one to age naturally and on time after spending months or years. Which was wearing quite well on the fake psychic.

The other option that was kind to him worked in his favor running a business in two worlds that seemed to be gentle and the height of his happiness. He had made a video before this all started should he not be able to show up (which was unlikely) so a family member knew what he was up to and how much fun that he was having that acted as a brisk fun in the day. Twisted, but he had fun, that's what mattered, but not naming the exact spot of the location.

The coordinates in the wrong hands; the location would be severely abused. He wasn't perfect... yet, he kept it close to his chest and only to a number of his detail with harsh discipline for anyone speaking about it. A stroke of kindness and caution for something as special as that deserved to be protected. He knew lesser men who would go in and kill variant after variant of an ex who violently struggled being dragged out and constantly lost. There was dangers of that. It probably did happen before by accident one long time before he stumbled upon it.

He made his way to the hospital under the cloak of darkness, ambulances with the doors open and gurneys that were half way out, lights still powering on, so many deceased slumped in their chairs.

His steps echoed behind him, softly, small, light noise that was heavy with the walk that was being done continuing the stroll passing right on by the reception desk with a slumped over head nurse.

Walking through the hallway, the lack of blue screens screens on the walls or platforms with digital screens that had room numbers didn't bother him, not the signs that were there in their placement virtually unchanged being black with white text, cameras stalking him, it was a time in the century that he preferred. He belonged in that era. Not the other that he tried once and still lost to the fake psychic in a world set in that stage of technology. A loud decision born out of rage and utter hate that still felt like yesterday after discovering the police had him dead to rights after the first confrontation and exploded in outrage. Fresh on his mind. 

A fake psychic who got on his nerves so easily making him mad and losing his composure quite quickly over the rapidly paced investigation. Someone who enraged him much earlier to the point of deciding to figure out how to take him down. Someone who's technological saavy counterpart grew old and watched his best friend lose everything painfully slowly over a week until Wolf made the delightful reveal.

Leaving the normally talkative psychic practically stunned, speechless, horrified, that he was a variant learning how to break him. The long aged stare with the gaping jaw and his eyebrows knit together as it dawned on him: It was all his fault. 

That was his favorite memory to recall because it was the second eventful confrontation. That's what he chalked up to, asides to losing, the fake psychic using the iron ball as his weapon then limping after destroying his foot, a simple bloody stump that ached like hell, dragging a weepy Gus out holding on his arm acting as his supporting guiding him out acting as the sword and the shield, desperately saving what was left in a world born of hurt and agony and loss. Being called mad by the fake psychic as the men escaped from his grasps.

Taking the elevators, each dinging bringing him closer, some corridors had no one in it, carrying his way through the environment. Until coming to the maternity floor where there were several corpses that were bleeding out. Guns, and lot of guns, Carlton Lassiter was set against the wall alongside a woman in a hospital gown holding her smaller hand so tightly and the other hand on her belly. 

Lassiter was aging incredibly well since the last time that the man had crossed paths with him over three years ago. Well, a variant of him. 

He left then returned with a medical device and some other bits of equipment, tore open the gown, checked for a heart beat. 

"Some stragglers.. huh.." his eyebrows lifted. 

He walked away then returned proceeding to cut open the gown further then sliced the belly in half with such care. 

He looked over toward the direction of the head detective who's eyes were on Marlowe, smiling, and his hand now stained in the blood that Wolf had unearthed. He had two bullets in his chest and a head wound. And she was virtually unharmed. Her eyes were on him equally not fluttering. 

It took some time to snatch the little thing that was cold, small, tiny, wailing, loudly, a little girl. Little fists that were shaking back at him wailing a storm. A cute little thing that needed direct medical attention. He lifted up to his feet surrounded by a crowd of unseen ghosts that were gaping at the brazen action and a initially furious one watching his baby being abducted unable to do anything about it.  

Cradling the little one in his arms using the dark jacket as a blanket and lifting himself up.

He walked off from the scene satisfied leaving behind the dead that couldn't raise a storm.

"I know the right exit to put you for awhile..."

The specters watched silently this time all knowing what was to transpire for the little one seeing a bit further into the future. 

Drewisy appeared at the exit, panting.

"Boss guy, look over there!" one of the men shouted. "It's Drewisy!"

Wolf turned back in the direction of the young man with his arms folded. 

"The chief gets a warrant and uses the phone to track you down considering it a emergency to track down a missing person!" Drewisy revealed, leaning against the nearest tree, then sunk down, dark curls planted against his hair, sweating profusely, some tears in his clothing were here and there. "It was a fluke that the shoot out happened and everyone died."

"And the psychic in that world?" Wolf asked. 

"He snatched your phone and called 911 after the shooting," was the answer that was being answered. "Police and ambulance and press are generally well on their way arriving to the scene." Panting and pausing as he regained his breath lowering his head then looked up. "He was so happy, facing me, crying, and broken, shaking the phone at me."

"The press arriving?" Wolf questioned, startled, pressing his eyebrows together. 

Drewisy had a hard gulp of air as he closed his eyes then opened them facing the man.

"He is a missing high profiled psychic." Drewisy reminded lifting his eyebrows.

"Did he tell you that the press was coming." Wolf eyed at him. 

"Didn't have to." Drewisy replied. 

"He lost everyone and he still called the police." Wolf was bewildered repeating it all in a nutshell, impressed. 

"They didn't come to get him just to die, Mr Wolf."  Drewisy said, shaking his head, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees, then looked aside toward the road and back. "They came to drag his ass out of that hell hole over our dead bodies."

Wolf gazed toward the forest considering it over for a long moment about the appeal of having that fake psychic snatched out of a great ending living for them in a new normal being a free man and not trapped in the basement. Guilt weighing behind him for a long time as he changed risking his life, hard, wearing his heart on his sleeve, throwing himself into danger, aggressively, making up for 2 years of absence, doing what they would want him to be. Living so hard.

Their favorite beloved fake psychic who saved innocent lives. 

"That's very informative, Drewisy." Wolf responded, adjusting the tie.

Wolf turned away then walked on toward the house. 

Shawn came to on the sectional. 

His head and face ached from the trauma of the bat.

He was wincing as Olha finished the last bits of stitching up his face.  A sting that lingered long after the injury had been given. A sting that lingered with the threats of his loved ones over his head that was nice and scarring and horrific. They were alive and just one single action trying to get out of her could make him have nothing to lose. That sting hurt his heart a lot more in the anguish that he lived in. 

"Ow!" Shawn yelped. 

Olha did the last bit of details. 

"It's done." Olha leaned back. 

Shawn looked over toward her in a moment of curiosity. 

"Why do you work for that bastard?" Shawn inquired, shaking his head quite puzzled. "You're a kind..." Looking up and down speaking so softly. "sweet..." Recollecting knowing her over the last three years. "and well off nurse."

Olha faced him for a moment clasping his hands together in the long pause looking long and distant. 

"He saved me from Russia invading my homeland." Olha proceeded to explain then picked up her medical grade tools. "And my sister, and my family," she closed the medical box then faced him for a moment. "He... He was being kind." 

"What nation?"

"Ukraine."

"Oh..."

"Said he can't end a war but he wanted to do something."

Shawn's mouth slightly fell watching her get up. 

"And by the way.." Shawn looked up toward Olha. "He wanted me to tell you that he could make you watch him kill two young men from nine years ago,  just starting their business, if you dare think, let alone, scheme, a escape attempt."

Shawn looked up facing her quite unphased by the threat.

"That's a bit overboard." Shawn said, annoyed. 

"Or he could snatch you and your favorite detective on your wedding day and watch him kill one of those two."

Shawn became dead silent in response watching her stray away then walk up the stairs without uttering a word. Shaken by the threat of a man becoming a widow on his wedding day. Watching her heading up the basement stairs leaving him behind then his attention strayed from her to the news that was airing a breaking news report. The door closed quietly behind her with a single gentle click 

"Santa Barbara's former finest detective Carlton Lassiter was shot today at the hospital visiting his comatose wife, he is expected to recover from the injury, his daughter,  born seven months early, is reportedly in stable condition from the emergency surgery performed..."

Shawn's heart was ripped out of his chest as he shook his head and screamed. 

Wolf lingered outside listening to the sound of the fake psychic's scream.

"That'll do, does satisfy that itch." was the remark. 

Wolf leaned off then climbed up the stairs heading to the upper floor quite tiredly as Shawn's screams echoed in the air quite distraught and so utterly scared whether it was because of him. It suited the situation better than tying him up and watching him harm a younger version of his father with hair and younger and time that had yet to touch his personal life and his actions and his relationship that was held for his son. 

Wolf looked down thinking it over for a moment over the entertaining idea. 

He could do that one of these days late at night and make him into his favorite ruins that were broken.

He could already imagine him crying, rag in his mouth, trying to scream, hidden in the darkness, pleading for his father's life in a desperate bid trying to save the head detective's future and his father's existence. Making him that upset and powerless was entertaining. 

Chapter Text

O'Hara had something that she didn't have three days ago. 

"Honda '04 spotted at the old theater. Over."

The words from the radio filled the air as she buckled herself in to the car then drove out of the parking lot then bolted.

That was a little thing called hope in her hands that wasn't an object, an file, a person, but an idea. Burning and optimistic.  A general idea of a subject that she hadn't thought could be real in the slightest and having the opportunity to hold that. Let alone, touch it, be in the same orbit, it gave her a certain amount of energy, someone that she had to brag about when it came to her galavanting around the city about making sure he could come out of hell and into their waiting arms. 

Whirring across the parking lot speeding toward the Honda 4 that squealed against the road then sped through the green grass heading for the city road. 

For the first time in three years of seeing Shawn Spencer again in the flesh with a radiant grin and immaturity and being the same lying fake psychic.

It was a Shawn Spencer that was out there but it wasn't her Shawn, she knew that in her heart. He could have a completely different relationship that had the same affection in a platonic way. A relationship that once was before they became a thing.

She needed someone to shoot out the wheels of the cars as it became readily apparent that the Honda had a full tank of gas. 

Did she want that relationship to come alive, again? But different. Yes, more than anything, she wanted her friend back, not just a romantic partner, that guy, who she grew alongside, was gone. She accepted that. She wanted someone treasured deeply, he was here, she wanted him back in all the right places, he was alive and breathing somewhere, out there.  Shawn Spencer.

She wiped away tears from her face with the flick of her finger thinking about talking about chasing after the leads of the merry band of men.

She had to tire out the suspects one way or another before finding out the exact location of Rudolph Curity the big block in the way of closing a case and Shawn's future safety.

The way he would grin listening to the report, fondly, affectionately, proudly, there was a probability that he didn't have a engagement ring on his person that came from her. The way that everything was going to be nice and rosy in the department as he listened to her in the middle of lunch. And yet, she found it in her heart to want Shawn Spencer in her life.

Her Shawn was gone, long gone, heroically, acting as a big distraction knowing him to keep attention away from Lassiter. The very thing that he prized just as much as she did. And there was a Shawn Spencer who had presumably had nothing to go back to. But here? He had a life to go back to. The big give away was the admission that there was a Shawn Spencer who needed rescuing.

O'Hara picked up the radio and spoke into it coming up with a excellent idea that benefited the catching of the errant criminals.

"Block the roads out of the city! Over!"

She clicked the radio searching for the blue Honda as her eyes darted from side to side. 

"Detective O'Hara, over, we got it set up."

"Do we have enough man power to block the road down town?"

"Uh huh, plenty of time, we got reinforcements," there was static over the line as O'Hara listened quite intensely. "friends, colleagues, a lot of man power."

"Do it, over!" O'Hara was barking like mad, aggressively. "Box them in, over!"

"O'Hara, listen," came the reply from the officer over the line. "we got a new report from a witness," a series of words that took her heart and lifted it up in fear of what they were. "they split up into two groups two minutes ago at Culvers. Over, one moment!"

There was a pause. 

"Word is at the fast food section of the city pulling up to burger king! Over!"

O'Hara's blue eye darted from side to side mulling it over.

"Is the chief involved? Over!"

"He is personally dealing with the tip line, something about waiting for a call, uh, um, ah, over."

"Get it finished, over!"

"The Call," Her eyes flashed open in alarm at the prospect that he knew too that Shawn was alive and well. Big ego wanting to redeem itself for his mistakes. "as he puts it. Over."

"Fill him in." O'Hara barked. "Out!" 

"O'Hara, over."

"Yes?" O'Hara repeated. "Over."

"We're pulling for Officer Lassiter, got a couple guys waiting to stand guard for his room. If we only knew that without a doubt they were really out to get him then his wife would still be here. Over."

"No one saw it coming." O'Hara's voice came over the radio. "Not even Trout. Out."

She hooked the radio up as her hands trembled on the steering wheel feeling sick to her stomach in the nauseating experience. One of them was going to get away and a couple of them were going to be caught in the other car. Her heart was racing in the panic. Get them, get them all, all of them rounded up and put into jail. Get them so Lassiter can see Shawn again for the first time in years.

The entire crew deserved to see Shawn in one piece.  Her mind settled as a key fact came to mind, was he going to be single? Oh... did he have a place? Did he have a place to stay? He needed a place to stay. It was going to be weird for him to spend time at her place if he accepted the offer. But it felt right laying the offer right there for him. 

Her mind consumed in the idea and the prospect that there was a Shawn who was held somewhere as she drove to the fast food section of the city flanked by a couple police cars full of angry cops. 

The blue 2004 Honda was surrounded at the drive through in the middle of getting a food bag. 

O'Hara withdrew and took out her gun as other police officers got out and aimed their guns at him. 

"Santa Barbara Police Department!" Balancing the weapon on the roof of the car. "OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! HANDS ON THE ROOF!"

Two figures emerged with hands in the air then slowly did as instructed as a couple beat cops arrived then did the arrests. Finally. One step closer to nailing Curity to the wall and bringing him in for murder.  One step closer to Shawn's nightmare being over. 

Chapter Text

The two men waited in interrogation for a few hours waiting and waiting for the arrival of blonde detective. Their only source of food and water was the dinner they decided to snatch from burger King which had been worth it in the end. Their arms were folded against their chests waiting for the arrival of their lawyer.

Finally the door opened revealing a man in a tan suit, a brilliant well kept beard going solver,  and a face that had quite a character. He wore this unassuming expression on his face facing the two men closing the door behind him then sat at the table and clasped his hands together for a moment leaning toward the two men.

"My name is Tan White," he set the suit case on to the table that flipped open revealing folders and files that consisted of the entire case that had been gathered. Photographs of evidence that had been labeled and shared. He clicked the file closed. "The state has assigned me as your public defender."

The men stared back, judgingly.

"Which one of you killed the pregnant woman?" White asked. 

Donahue pointed towards Doors.

"He fired the trigger." Donahue said.

"And is the man who shot up Officer Lassiter in this room by any chance." White inquired.

"With pleasure." Donahue said, grinning.

His eyes flashed open as his friendly demeanor dads quickly.

"Why the hell did you do that?" White asked, irked and outraged getting in their faces that really startled them for a moment.

"It was part of the job." Donahue answered.

"Job, job, job..." White repeated leaning back into the chair tapping on his lips looking aside figuring how he can use this to his advantage in a court of law.

Doors looked over toward the mirror then back over in the direction of the public lawyer.

"Are the police listening in?" Doors asked.

"The audio is off." White looked over in the direction of Doors. "It's private."

"Least they can't read lips." Doors remarked, amused.

"Who hired you and what reason if any will given to form such a heinous crime. That way both young man before me can avoid the death penalty."

"Death doesn't frighten me." Doors replied.

"Accepted that when coming to terms with the job." Donahue added.

"But does police brutality?" White asked.

"They don't do that here." Doors protested

"Could have killed the baby but the bullets did not go for the stomach." Pointed out the details that happened in the harsh lighting of the building and gruesome crime that was performed in a place of recovery and hope and death but such horrific death it was this time. "They were aimed for her chest and her head."

"I have nothing against babies." Doors stated.

"Yeah, it was not part of the package." Donahue added

"Loophole abuse being exploited in your favor." 

Doors looked over quite irritated.

"Do we look like monsters?" Doors asked.

White proceed to give a recap of what exactly they had done.

"A pregnant woman had her blood scattered all over her hospital room and so was her husband lost some blood during the shooting, at the lobby, a place of waiting and and the sick became another murder scene.... who also happens to be police officer who was coming to visit."

"Not all cops a good cops." Donahue protested against the emphasis of the cop. "Just because you are a cop does that mean it is a noble thing to be."

Disgusting for an ordinary man to be speaking this way about a cop. Using it as a reason to kill one of them. Judging them for the actions of others believing they are all molded to be that way. It appalled White significantly yet he kept his disgust down to a respectable degree.

"It is but some people misuse that role!" White sounded out in a moment of anger.

The two men glare back at the lawyer who was passionate.

"Aren't you supposed to be a lawyer?" Donahue inquired turning his head toward the direction of the passionate lawyer.

White leaned back folding his leg over his knee 

"I'm a defender, gentlemen." White smiled, casually. "I defend people of all walks of life," then clasping his hands together shaking his head. "even the bad ones."

The men simply stared back at him.

" As I was saying... A well respected law enforcement personnel who used to be a detective."

The two men laying back even more smug before.

"He got demoted." Doors said.

"He got demoted for trying to do the right thing which was getting a suspect into custody." White play sick in his hands leaning forward desperately explaining the whole situation that was quite dark very unfortunate led to this twisted justified action belief. "Listen it was a whole thing really. It was a whole group effort."

"Violently." The men replied.

White rubbed his face groaning that could be felt and heard.

"Stop putting that violence around Lassiter, he gets suspects worked up and shoots them, cheerfully, sometimes he shoots them in the leg, the ass, the foot, or the shoulder, it's like throwing a dart and hitting the most inconvenienced spot."

"We're not laughing."

"This isn't funny." White remarked, his voice dripping initially in amusement that had been hand delivered by the clients. "Your attempts to avoid accountability won't work."

"Avoid accountability..." Doors repeated, laughing.

A confident amused smile was well worn by the lawyer.

"You are still getting the death penalty." White said 

"Okay, we're getting the needle." Doors said. 

"No big deal." Donahue said. 

"No big deal?" His pitch lifted as he stared at them incredulously. A big throbbing nerve apparent on his forehead. "These are your lives!"

"Our lives aren't that important to the entire world." Donahue replied.

White leaned back into the chair then rubbed the side of his cheeks then let out a loud frustrated sigh facing cop haters who's hate deserved to be reiterated since they took this opportunity willingly becoming part of it.

He reflected how they could have backed out of the job at any time and called the cops on the source of misery before it could have happened. They weren't coping with it. They already accepted it.

"Men.  ."

A sharp inhale.

"Tell me everything so I can make a deal with prosecutor." White requested, pleasingly. "Or the department themselves," His hands were planted on the table. "they got a bone to pick with you."

It wasn't that surprising to the men who wore the same marching gazes.

"A really sharp prick that is going to be agonizing."

"Soooo?" Doors asked.

"They don't take one of their own going down very that well."

"We saw that plain as day." Donahue reminded.

"If you get off then its fair game and no one on the jury will convict a cop for taking justice into his hands for what happened."

"Why should we care?" Doors and Donahue asked on unison.

"Because I happen to care and the cops will beat you up to get information out of you if you remain silent."

"They won't do that." Doors dismissed the idea so casually and laughed it off. "They pull that stuff when there is a kid missing and suspect someone of being the culprit."

"Officers can walk away and turn a blind eye." White said.

The two men exchanged a glance with one another at the prospect then turned their combined attention back toward he lawyer. The men talked and talked about their predicament and everything about the contaxct. Just about everything that they knew that could aid in White's job.

O'Hara approached the door then opened it and walked in wearing a long expression on her face that was cold and grave.

White got up then went to the corner of the room.

"My clients are not interested in talking about the crime. Unless we are making a deal."

"We need the phone number of the man who hired them." O'Hara replied. 

"Bring in the prosecutor and maybe we have a deal that can arrange for that to happen." Was White's reply 

"Carlton Lassiter is heavily sedated recovering from being shot three times in the chest. He is expected to be in the hospital for a few weeks. He is a widow. He could've died if there wasn't a doctor who was waiting for an appointment. His baby girl is in NICU."

O'Hara gazed down at them.

"It's a miracle that he didn't die on the operating table or suffered a stroke."

Her words are harsh and full of anger.

"Where are you going with this?" White asked, bothered by her harsh tone.

"It should be blatant to your clients." O'Hara almost hissed.

White gazed back and forth then frowned

"Speak it in plain English." White said.

"What are the guarantees that Lassiter and his daughter will not be continued to be targeted by their associates?" O'Hara asked. 

White gazed over toward the men then back.

"He's going to have security and attention on him for a long time." White replied, approaching the detective who was taking the lead on the case then paused in front of her. "It will be made impossible to get him a third time. Plea deal or no dice."

Chapter Text

"Detective O'Hara."

O'Hara was looking at the paper that had the number. Her hands were trembling on the desk resting there facing the reminder the nightmare was getting over but all it took was placing a call. She always imagined a day of seeing a number   pertaining to Shawn on the desk. Just getting in and finding it on the desk resting there all simple and welcoming and ordinary as the doors to the nightmare  set there waiting to be opened and walked on through to get it over with.

"Yes, chief?" She looked up toward Trout who wore eyes of concern and a question to take the load off her hands that was emotionally making it such a difficult time very early that morning. "I can do it."

Trout rested a hand on the young woman's shoulder. 

"There's a chance that man is the one who did it." Trout reminded. 

"It's something a woman has to do." O'Hara said. 

She could feel her throat closing up in terror, fear, anguish, making the call, then he took both of her hands and squeezed them so tightly, looking at her in understanding, firmed, resolved, still, and composed. Her eyes looked over toward the chief.

"If it comes down to it then hand the phone over to me." Trout's voice was gentle looming over the figure. "When ready, come over to the room over there," Beckoned over to the conference room. "we got the trace team set up and ready to track that bastard down."

She looked over toward the crowded conference room as he withdrew his hands looking down upon her.

"Fast." O'Hara looked over toward him. 

"Uh huh, record breaker."

"How did that come about?"

"Told the judge it's tied to Shawn Spencer's disappearance."

"Don't tell me he helped that judge out."

"No, he exposed him as a cheater." O'Hara leaned forward clasping her hands on the desk quite confused. "He signed the court order anyway. Said he respected your ex-fiance for being honest and telling his wife nine years ago about the affair. The marriage was already over and.. said that his involvement helped recognizing that."

The detective leaned back into the chair. 

"Some relationships die terribly hard." O'Hara replied. 

"I am bringing in that sorry excuse for a man in. Today."

She looked over toward the sketch that had been made of the murderer turned thief as the chief turned away then walked into the room.

She had a sharp emotional inhale thinking how that was the last face her fiance had seen before falling into the great beyond. Her innermost volcano in her heart started to blow open with the top blown right off revealing the hot and fierce steaming rage beneath it that had been capped for too long. She stared at the man responsible for a horrible crime that was no different from the men that were taken in before him for murder (well, except for looking like a movie star). 

O'hara chuckled to herself thinking of Shawn and how it was one of his last words facing his would be murder being himself facing the end all alone.

Curity had a cop's blood on his hands and a fake psychic's engagement ring on his finger is all she could imagine looking at the sketch of him.

It was early in the morning when Curity got a call on the phone sipping coffee leaning back set at a Starbucks rapping his fingers on the table then sliding his phone out of his pocket.

Once he used to flip his phone out, repeatedly, a force of habit that faded once he lost his first phone, second phone, third phone, fourth phone, and fifth phone that way getting them cracked and subsequently water damaged after a time. The habit died hard as a volcano that erupted and destroyed Pompeii showering ash upon the ones who refused to flee earlier. Blanketing the landscape swallowing it whole and preserving decorations, construction equipment, possibly, hopeful, figuring out how they made their roads last for so long. 

"Hello." Curity said. 

"This is Juliet O'Hara from the Santa Barbara Police Department, why are you trying to have Officer Carlton Lassiter killed?"

Curity sipped from the cup with a sigh. 

"He hasn't told you about what happened." Curity said. "has he."

"He can't talk about it." O'Hara said. "He made a promise not to."

"To the man that he abandoned to die." Curity was amused leaning back and lowered his gaze. "It was surprising, seeing them, side by side, investigating one of my men for terrorizing a family, the words... uh... Billworld?" he looked aside then up facing the ceiling. "No," his gray themed eyes lowered. "It was Billword."

"Why was he doing that?"

"Bad divorce."

"No excuse."

"They egged her on to divorce him,"

"So, this is torture."

"Getting back at them because she got into finances and.." Curity let it hang there for a complete moment. "Well," he got up taking the coffee cup with him. "she wanted that as part of the divorce. His assets."

"that's not one of your men, that's a full on partner." O'Hara said. 

"The psychic..."

"Yes, he was the best that we had."

"He was still alive when I took the finger off." Curity recalled, warmly, gazing up, remembering the moment where he screamed and laughed. "Dying, painfully slowly..." Another sip of the coffee cup was taken. "I told him it was a shame he was never going to get married."

"What did he say in response?"

"What did he say... let me think..."

"Did he call for Officer Lassiter? Call for help! Screaming in pain."

"Nothing like that. He was laughing, laughing at me, tickled, taken me for a fool, a gullible idiot!"

"What exactly did he say before you took the finger off?"

"that he was a fake psychic."

"He was pulling your leg."

"The psychic said he has been married to you since the first day his eyes laid on you. Didn't need a marriage certificate, wedding band, or event to prove that." A sob escaped from the detective on the other end of the line. More small sobs started to come from the line. "Your hearts have been married far longer than the law could recognize," he sent a list of numbers to his email, personal contacts, logged off, eliminated his numbers. "very sappy thing."

There was a brief pause in the air with the sound of crying and sobbing that was deeply distressing with the fast paced sound of rushing footsteps full of  anger and a loose cannon ready to blow up. 

"You sick son of a bitch!" Trout roared in rage. "I know for a fact if you took his ring finger off then he was DEAD! He would bite your wrist then your throat and and and and whack you at the head with your gun after toppling you down to the ground."

Curity was tickled by the boiling hot rage of someone so furious at a detective being shattered. 

"And then I stabbed him in the heart, over, and over, and over," Curity was so tickled, calmly, talking, pleased. "and then blood.. Well, his laughter stopped coming out of that maw so that was a vast improvement."

"We're getting you, you slimy rotten ass goddamn fucker!" Trout shouted, upset. 

"Oh, but he did say all those things." was Curity's insistence, casual. "And who is this?"

"This is Chief Harris Trout." Trout answered, intently. 

"OH, the blonde with an enormous ego."

"This isn't about my ego."

"You know, you should be fortunate,"

"He went into a case without a wire on him."

"Whenever I hear something funny, I get haunted by his laughter, long and drawn out, happy. Makes it hard to laugh personally. It's annoying, it's a menace, you get to remember him as a harmless specter that doesn't stick."

There was a moment of pause as if it occurred to Trout that he couldn't summon the psychic to his mind's eye as his hand turned into a fist.

"Bye, I will call the department later."

"Why you..."

"On my terms. No tracing."

The phone was dropped to the table then he walked away leaving it behind.

Chapter Text

The building that Mr Wolf worked at was a tall and imposing building. Tall with red tiles and white texture for an office building. The character of the city that iconic stood out as its Spaniard heritage easily deducted from a Zorro production. Not that out of the realm of a history piece that was interrupted by the sight of cars and the sight of electric charges littering the parking lot.

It had a balcony and outside patio overlooking the beach and a wonderful close by the city while near a bluff.

"So, Mr Wolf, what was the first eventful confrontation you had with him?"

Edfin set a mug of warm chocolate on to the table at the office as the older man's eyes swayed toward the blonde. 

"Before your friend accidentally delivered a slow killing wound." Wolf replied. 

Edwin leaned forward grasping at imaginary straws as it struck him quickly thinking.

"Wait, you don't mean..." Edfin lifted his eyebrows in a moment of shock, seating himself at the long blue couch, quite flummoxed, and deeply startled. "this one, this version, chronologically up to a point."

Wolf nodded for a moment there. 

"... Well?" Edfin prodded. 

Wolf leaned back facing him. 

"Our first confrontation was quite a.."

He paused for  a long moment while sipping the drink. 

"Whirlwind of emotions there?" Edfin offered for the employer. "Silly little detective who was eccentric and entertaining."

"At first he was that way during our first meeting in the arm of his friend," Wolf recalled. "it was very brief," Lifting his head up slowly remembering the very first meeting. "they were acting like children, paying very little attention, arguing, something about a candy bar dragging him over to the party."

Edfin leaned back into the chair proceeding to laugh. 

"He looked at me, really looked at me," the face of anger from across, tranquil rage beneath the surface, crushing his drink, shattering it into pieces, staining the plaid and alarming Gus who made a noise about. "hard."

"When?"

"When that Vallen boy appeared at that party,"

"Christopher Vallen!" Edfin snapped his fingers as his eyebrows lifted, gaping. "The kid who has a knack for coding!" He lifted the cup up wearing a cheerful admiring smile. "He made that crime fighting app which appeared on the news."

Wolf had a simple nod at the remark smiling if for a little bit at the way that the boy had become a man of his own at such a young age striding to make a name for himself without intending to. His father would've been so proud of him. Very proud to see what he accomplished with his life so early in his existence. 

"just a simple brief meeting," Wolf continued remembering the incident that changed both of their lives. "then he knew everything," he couldn't forget that stare with what happened after. "somehow, someway, some method, that caused him to approach me and told me that he knew exactly what I did."

He could still remember the stare that the younger man had facing him from afar alongside the pharmaceutical salesman who dragged him to a corporate party. 

"That's bold." Edfin said. 

"And the spirits were telling him that I wasn't going to get away with it," Wolf recalled. 

"You had gotten away with it earlier." Edfin remarked. 

Wolf nodded lifting his eyebrows starting to smile.

"Which is why I laughed as any ordinary man who got away with it did." Lifting his drink up.

"That made him even more angry, I guess?"

Wolf simply chuckled at the reminder then laughed at it.

"Sooo angry," Twirling in the chair swaying from side to side. "claimed karma was going to bite me in the butt, said a lot of things, before making that explosive comment at the end, steaming, apparently he investigated the case as a favor... and he was reopening it."

"He can't just reopen it," Edfin remarked. "it was full proof. I heard it was the best set up crime scene in the history of crime scenes." quite confused at the strange announcement. "There was nothing left that could point toward you."

Wolf stretched his drink out for the mook lifting it up over his laugh.

"That's what I said!"

"Stupid psychic."

"Very dumb."

Edfin cradled the side of his head looking aside mulling it over. 

"He had a loving partner and he threw it away for.." withdrawing his hand. "What? Glory?"

"A little boy who lost his everything." was the reply. "Not two kids and a widow."

"That is substantial." Edfin remarked.

"Ad also, that, he's not in the police department, he may be a consultant, but he can't reopen the case! It was never his case as far as I knew."

"How many times did you kill the father to make sure it was full proof way to get away with it and set the crime scene?"

"Approximately 100 times."

Edfin looked aside thinking it over wondering giving it a good shake.

"Confounding psychic.."

Wolf was swaying glass in the air as he rambled leaning back into the seat proceeding to talk.

"His friend said after the fact to ignore him because the spirits were wrong. All with that smile and those kind unassuming brown sweet eyes." Wolf frowned at his own comment. "Later realized he was playing nice."

"Covering his ass more like it." Edfin remarked.

A huge inhale was had by Wolf.

"Getting calls about the investigation from there... In the end.. very upsetting all the way to the detectives appearing at my front door."

Edfin stars at him long and hard.

"And the rest is history.."

Edfin recalled how that went on, his one call, dressing up in black, blowing up the state penitentiary and starting a riot that flourished and sent men running alike on various sides of the law, smoke filling the air, walking through wearing helmets that made identifying them hard, the only one smiling walking out of there was Wolf gazing at the camera then taping the psychic's picture in the view. Breaking him out of jail along with some other men had been quite an episode.

That McCallum man, the bald one, the first arrested one, had tried to talk him out of it, a memorable incident. Edfin remembered how the man stood in the jail cell pleading for him not to go and stay. He had to do his time, the psychic's life was not worth toying around. Women? Sure. Just for fun that was harmless. A man making him think long and hard about his crime? No. Fighting for a man's life. He should be out in good behavior for that effort redeeming himself but life didn't work that way.

"You know I could go out there and make Guster watch his best friend...."

His gears were turning and rotating as he trained off gazing on into the distance.

"Boss..." Edfin began shaking his head as his blue eyes were resting on the green eyes red head. "This is the kind of thing Drewisy is into hearing."

"Oh yes, I know." He looked over toward the young man pausing for a moment then quirked a smile. "Chaos."

There was a line drawn being in the company of the ruthless man.

Mr Wolf respected his detail when it came to certain kinds of acceptable chaos. It was on their contracts to preserve the decency and the secrecy of the forest negotiated by lawyers who were familiar to his predicament and experienced it first hand.

Chapter Text

Jared arrived at the police department wearing a smile a day after the initial call had been made and planted and seeded distress among the department that had shaken it all off quite easily hours after the moment was concluded.

The mayor felt like a wee little insignificant man surrounded by security against outside forces like he was the president showing up unannounced and it was quite entertaining having men behind him dressed in tan wearing shades and scrutinizing the entire department for potential assassins. He didn't know how it was this amusing but it was generally amusing in his mind. 

Jared knocked at the door then heard the familiar voice. 

"Come in." Trout ordered. 

Jared opened the door then beckoned the men away in a gay way.  

"This is the safest place in the entire department, boys." Jared assured. 

Jared entered the room then closed the door behind him wearing a optimistic and hopeful smile greeting his old friend. 

"News travels fast."

Jared sat down at the chair in front of the desk then crossed his leg over his knee. 

"I told you so." Jared replied. 

Trout sharply lowered his head with a inhale that was quite difficult and hard on him then lifted his head up. 

"You didn't hear about the phone call." Trout replied.

Jared leaned forward resting his hands on a single arm rest leaning to his side quite concerned pressing his eyebrows together in a sudden moment where the tranquility vanished. 

"Love to hear about this news before the press catches wind." Jared replied. 

"The psychic is dead." Trout replied. 

"Are you sure about that?"

"He confessed to it." Trout hissed, clasping his hands. "Graphically, to one of my detectives!" He motioned over toward the desk set across from his own then lowered his hand. 'It was really bad how it was on my end." His words carried venom, hate, and disdain. "Seeing her broken by smug monster."

"So he's been dead for the last couple days."

"He died three years ago," Trout replied. 

"That is generally impossible due to that video."

"What video?"

"It's all over YouTube!"

"Don't listen to YouTube or watch it."

"Perhaps you don't have people who pay attention to YouTube as necessary." He took out his phone then browsed through the website on his phone, searched for the title, found it,and slid it back toward him. "It's really quite a show."

Trout took the phone back then played the video leaning back listening to the video that made the pharmaceutical salesman quite upset. His heart dropped all in one swoop as the entire world froze around him gazing on the screen.

Really had millions of views on it with a few dislikes and a lot of likes that scored massively on the side of the person who uploaded the clip. Similar clips were recommended on the side made from the next interview done with Gus that spanned over an hour, right at the old dusty office, talking about cases, video clips and newspapers, with some familiar faces. The special intended to draw out the murder was done done proper. 

He was silent for a long moment staring at the screen as if he blue screened then rebooted after a long time facing his rather optimistic and hopeful long time friend.  But things didn't add up. Georgie digging up a dead body that was linked to the scent and then digging up dozens after which was a whole problem in on itself regarding the problem of the missing corpse. O'Hara's reaction didn't even make sense. Nothing made sense in the chaos that was spinning all around the case like a Merry Go round that had very little rhyme or reason. 

Trout got up to his feet then opened the door and beckoned O'Hara in. 

"Detective O'Hara, what do you know that I don't?"

O'Hara gazed from the mayor to him then back, again. 

"About what, sir?"

The mayor wore a easy going smile. 

"About the mysterious dead man you're crying over that is not Shawn Spencer. What the hell is going on?"

"That private detective who came in."

"Yes, he fooled me really well."

"The remains."

"Yes!"

"Shawn Spencer's call."ar

"YES!"

O'Hara was rendered silent facing him thinking how not to break him. 

"Wait, is this some.... Star Trek thing?"

"That involves aliens."

"You know what exactly I am talking about." Jared was shaking his index finger

"No, no, she does not." Trout replied, shaking his head 

"Doctor Who thing?" Gazing back and forth. "Out of this world matter? Or did Henry Spencer raise three Shawn Spencer's at the same time?" Jared sat on the edge of the desk leaning forward with the most plausible explanation. "Having a second chance to prevent a wrong from being made a second time. Or a man who looked at Shawn stole his belongings while he was skinny dipping before he was abducted?"

O'Hara remained quiet then lowered her gaze and up.

"you want an explanation."

"Any will do." Trout said. 

She then explained everything to them in a simple series of words starting from the very beginning that was very informative and cleared things up even when it hadn't cleared he air in the slightest.  Baffling the two men.  It made the most sense, though 

"you said you wanted, any." O'Hara said. 

"So..." Trout said. "Our Shawn Spencer."

"Is VERY dead." O'Hara confirmed.

"and there's a Shawn Spencer, alive and well, theoretically, well," Trout was up to his feet with his hands on the desk facing the detective.  "At this very moment unable to grab hold on a phone and call us?"

Jared was up to his feet pointing at his friend quite excited. 

"I told you so, I told you so, I TOLD YOU SO!"

"It's not even the same guy!"

"it's Shawn Spencer." Jared reminded, simply. "it's the same guy." Gesturing out toward the hallway of the police department. "Up to a certain point like that one episode from Voyager featuring Garret Wang... and a dash of  that Parallels episode featuring Michael Dorn being displaced."

Trout studied his hopeful friend clinging to the revelation like a man desperate for a life raft that meant letting go and throwing the whole place further into a stormy sea where no one was happy about the chief being replaced with someone they were not going to like coming in under these circumstance. 

"Detective O'Hara, you can go now." Trout ordered.

O'Hara got up to her feet then left the room closing the door behind her. 

"What do you think?" Jared asked.

"Need to leave and not come back in five minutes." Trout said.

Jared rested his hand on the back of the chief stretching his hand out toward the ceiling. 

"I believe in a thing called redemption and penance and resolved guilt! I believe in a thing where things end well! I believe in a where the dead forgive the living for their misdeeds!"

Trout looked over lifting his eyebrows facing his long time friend.

"I believe in a thing called closure!" 

He lowered his hand.

"I believe in a thing where redemption guides you into incredible strides and pursues people to making better decisions than that they had before." He got up buttoning the suit then approaching the door. "I believe in a musical number with my best friend leading the song!"

Trout smiled leaning back at the image being summoned into existence between hem.

"A friend who is giving a kick ass performance that is both memorable and so utterly hammy and terribly full of ego," shaking his head full of fondness and delight upon the chief. "and that is the most lovely thing I can see here."

His heart was singing and happy and uplifted in ways that were so beautiful with a short performance that involved the spot light, the moonwalk, delightful singing that was full of singing, he could see right through him. The performance of Broadway in his eyes during the whole speech. 

"And I won't let you until you get rid of the guy who stands in the way of Shawn possibly coming back alive and well with no more threats over his head!" Jared finished the speech gripping the side of the door. "Take this bone and maybe then I will consider asking you to step down..."

He looked up and down before facing the mayor.

"and until then, I will be deciding who to best replace you." He wore a well off smile that was sincere and bitter about it all. "Does that make you feel better about this terrible tragedy?"

"A lot."  Trout admitted, sincerely.

The two men stared at one another for a long moment, one wore guilt and the other wore sympathy. 

"Your ego needs this." Jared said then opened the door then left. 

What did Trout do to deserve that tons of friend who supported him? He did't know how or why but he was the single most incredible man. 

Chapter Text

It had been three days since the finding of corpse, four days since Shawn Spencer reappeared, and merely two days since Lassiter had been shot down at the hospital who was practically busy recovering. Heavily sedated at peace not bothered by the enormous wife of Marlowe tugging at his psyche. His life was made of pain in the waking world. He needed to be resting not in emotional pain that made the heart ache.

O'Hara's heart was heavy lingering at the entrance of the police department grasping the long cold gray bar feeling her heart stung hard a day after the call that had been shared by Curity. He hadn't called back in over a day. 

A trace of footsteps came to a pause by her side. 

"I leave for a few days to give everyone space after making Detective Lassiter find the corpse of your fiance and you're already falling apart?" Was the most incredulous set of words stitched together. 

O'Hara looked over toward the familiar figure who was by her side looking quite concerned and squinting at the gaping detective. 

"Aren't you supposed to be..." O'Hara looked at him spelled over in confusion twirling her hand. 

"Be what?" Shawn tilted his head aside. 

"A little dead?" O'Hara asked. 

"I'm not that Shawn Spencer." Shawn reminded her, looking concerned.

"You're very..." O'Hara said. "Alive." 

"Whaaaaaat?"

"The bomb?"

"What bomb?"

"The Amazon box?" 

"Amazon box?... Bomb?  ...Doesn't ring a bell."

Oh.

Her face fell as she got a exact taste of what it was going to feel like facing him, again. Preparing her for the moment.

Shawn paused for a long moment as his hazel eyes gazed back and forth studying her as he leaned forward quite perplexed then raised his hand up and lowered his head as he sighed.

"Did I miss a huge chunk of the detective's case that another me progressed?" Shawn's question broke her heart because it sounded like an apology and generally annoyed and disappointed all at once.

O'Hara wiped her tears off with her sleeve then looked up and faced him for a moment. 

"Seems to be the case, Shawn." O'Hara replied.

He clasped his fingers against his lips. 

"Jules, this whole leap and bounds with AI is making my life chaotic, voice duplication,  rubber masks for robots, robots taking jobs, and someone apparently impersonating me ruining my relationship with the department and I am pretty sure it's a AI. And no one believes me when I say I didn't do anything they say I did, I have been cooped up recovering from a very mild version of.."

Shawn stopped, inhaling, closing his eyes, then sighed. 

"What was the hint?" O'Hara asked. 

"For starters they keep saying I had no soul in my voice or my eyes." Shawn's voice was sharp and bitter. 

"They're projecting because your actions have been hurting them." O'Hara reminded. 

Shawn inhaled leaning against the railing fluttering his eye lashes looking aside with one hand on hips hip. 

"Jules," He turned his attention back toward her, sincere, proceeding to shake his hands, exasperated. "I have been home sick for days."

Well they are either gullible fools or blinded by hurt. Gus not talking was a big red flag.

"Days?" O'Hara repeated, startled. 

"I think someone is out to get me," Pacing around rubbing the side of his head then turned toward her. "discredit me, ruin my reputation," Letting out a frustrated noise then slouching over the railing on the other side of the stairs. "it's almost like someone engineer a little variant of that little virus just for meee."

O'Hara stared at the back of the psychic. 

"Take your phone out." O'Hara requested

Shawn withdrew the phone then pressed the side.

"And open it."

"The z-fold or the new Tri-fold generation 3 I got in the mail from a generous client today?"

Shawn looked serious bringing it up... Tri-fold. 

"The Z-fold." Shawn gently opened it. "Open your photos." Shawn stared at her for a very long moment facing the detective. "Carlton said you took a photograph of him and yourself for fun during the drive there."

Shawn's eyebrows furrowed then obliged in his confusion then showed it to her and it was exactly how Lassiter said it was. Shawn grinning with his arm wrapped around the beat cop's shoulder. Evidence that this world existed. Evidence that he was there. Evidence... A practically identical world existing alongside his own.

The only difference was that Shawn came from vastly different set of circumstance that still held some chaos in it that was quite a warranted in his life because he's not making it. Not the direct root cause of it. Yet, she looked over facing him. No dread resting above his head. It was so apparent now that have been a horrible switch that neither of them had known about.

Only meant that the other one he hasn't visited was overdue for some progress in the case. And Carlton's life was still on the line. He could avoid the shooting. Marlowe, still in a coma, all of that.

She looked up then walked around the barrier, grabbed him, tugging him down the stairs arriving to the red car that waited or her. She shoved him into the seat alongside the driver seat then closed the door and hurried into the car. A fast paced drive without giving context.  

Gus arrived to the beat cop's hospital room. 

He was resting there so silent and peaceful it felt just about wrong. 

The sound of beeps echoing in the air that contrast how it would normally be silent there in the air around him. The cold silence that emitted in the space around the man that was unlike the fake psychic. A link that had seemingly gone through the gutters and taken out by surgeons after the emotional hell became revealed that was cruel and unforgiving heavily upset. He could only imagine the man's cries at the thought of his life falling apart so abruptly in blasts. 

Gus set a get well card on the table alongside the beat cop then sat down alongside him and cupped his hands. 

He rested his hands on his knees looking over toward the beat cop for a moment then closing his jaw and opened it. 

"I miss.."

Gus rubbed his face at the strange turn of events then gazed aside getting up to his feet and approached the window that showed a small pond that had geese and ducks swimming about. A nice rock garden, tall blades of lilies piercing through the water, some that resembled tall and thick blades of grass that flowers hung from the long stalks and angled with gold pollen without knowing their name, a beautiful scene. 

"Both of you."

Gus turned back in the direction of the beat cop facing the resting older man shaking his head. 

"If I had answered all those damn phone calls then you wouldn't be there." Gus replied, bitterly. 

Gus joined the side the of the beat cop and sat down looking down upon him. 

".. If you go.." Gus said. "I..." he lowered his gaze then up toward him. "It... things starting to look up and then it's falling apart, it's not right, it's down right criminal, and rude, you got a daughter, so..."

Gus cleared his throat as the uncertain odds of Shawn pulling through this rotten nightmare in one piece, mentally, physically, and his soul, going through a series of dumpsters that were boiling in fire and filled in lava.

"In Shawn Spencer's name..."

He cleared his throat.

"He died for you, remember?"

Gus took his hand as he leaned forward.

"Live for him." was the request. "He'll be so very disappointed and mad at you if you don't recover fast and visit your daughter at the hospital. We're all counting on you to make it through this gnarly nightmare, you're inspiring, you're amazing, you're incredible, making it through that divorce? If you can do that with help then so can I if things don't work out with Charlene."

Gus got up to his feet then walked away and paused at the door. 

"And that's an order from someone who knew him best." his brown eyes lowered on to the knob as his hand trembled there gripping the knob. "Speaking on his behalf."

Gus opened the door then left the room leaving the beat cop be there in the silence embedded in slumber.

Shawn inquired along the way.

Asking questions what they were heading back to the crime scene.

She tuned out the questions then parked the car and hopped out of the vehicle. Shawn followed her back to the thicket then paused looking back at the direction that he had came with his hands in his pockets. He noticed the long face that she wore made of time and heart ache and news that were significantly heavy to hold for one person to hold in her hands all alone. 

"Jules.." Shawn began. "what is going on?"

"Carlton was shot at the hospital." O'Hara stated

Shawn's world came to a halt facing her.

"How bad is it?"

"He is down for awhile, doctors say maybe 6 to 8 weeks he can be discharged," His hazel eyes scanned her. "He is resting." The psychic's jaw slowly lifted in response. "Nurses are working over time taking care of him and making sure he stays sedated. His heart doesn't need to process that fresh after surgery."

Shawn rubbed below his lips listening as his eyes slowly closed and took an inhale. 

"You said you waited a few days." O'Hara finished. 

Shawn's eyes opened facing her lowering his hands from his lips.

"Generally expected no one to show up in that time frame." Shawn replied, bitterly. "yeah!"

"Think long and hard about this world, now, think of it, with a visiting Shawn Spencer bothered for the last year by a recurring vision of being blown up by an Amazon box. Think, think, and think, and walk."

"Ooooooh."

"It's a blue 2004 Honda that has a cracked side door.." Shawn took out his z fold then jotted down in the notes tapping rapidly fast as his fingers hit the screen lowering his head on to the camera. "it has a damaged window shield at the back. The license is out of date. The front hood has a terrible crack like the one on that kid from the franchise with wizards."

"That's detail."

"It's a crack."

Shawn ceased tapping on the screen then looked at her.

"Is there anything you need help on the investigation?"

"If I bring you along into the department," she lowered her gaze in this emotionally difficult moment standing in front of someone who was identical to the mam that she had said farewell only a short while ago to his death. "can you, pick up, on past events, touching things."

"Generally how it works being a psychic." Shawn put the z-fold away then clasped his hands together. 

O'Hara paused for a moment thinking it over at the center of a fork in the road about asking being in the center of possibilities thinking it over. 

"Jules..."

Being at the mercy of Curity when he placed the next call. They were going to nail the one responsible for all the pain and misery eventually with Lassiter being part of it in a significant means after his recovery. She looked side folding her arms looking over standing int he dead center of possibilities and not knowing what to say. Her gaze lifted up  then she looked over toward the tree nearby then back.

"Thinking."

"What is there to think about?"

"There are things that aren't on your plate, Shawn." O'Hara snapped back. 

Things were going to explode when the reveal of there being another Shawn Spencer being out there that supercharged the ego of the acting chief and gave him a motivation to make sure he prevented the man from dying after the scare. Who knew if the one who had Shawn was going to lend the call for the first time in over three years making things brighter and the missing person's case be dusted off, becoming active, the main focus. 

"Jules, what's going on?" Shawn asked, concerned 

"Go and touch that tree at the other side after helping out Carlton." O'Hara requested. 

"Be right back." 

Shawn made a bolt in into the forest where he vanished right inside and she stood there for several minutes. 

She had her arms folded gazing back and forth then faced the tree line. She saw the psychic's familiar figure return, speeding, as if his ass was on fire, then came to a halt alongside the tree line, then knelt to his knees, panting, shaking his head, gazing up, panting, out of breath. He lowered his head and remained there for a long moment. 

"Nothing happened when I touched the tree."

"What happens to Lassiter?"

"I helped him find the remains and you and everyone get to bury him. I attended my own funeral! You're sick! Absolutely sick!" the way that he was talking made her laugh."I did not expect them to hold a funeral on the same day instead of a week and dad wouldn't look at me."

"Oh, thank God!"

"Jules, you all bring in Doors..."

"And Donahue."

"Word came in that Lassie's wife was shot. His baby is dead. Then the others show up and start shooting up the place. He used himself as a meat shield! A meat shield! Ad you know what he said? Before he slipped away? In my arms!"

"He called you a fine detective."

Shawn shook his head in response to the remark.

"Instead, he said the worst thing possible: It's been an honor to know you. I wish we had been partners together on the force."

O'Hara squinted contemplating whether he was lying regarding the issue of Lassiter dying. Keeping that back as a precaution in case things went side ways in this world and the world needed a Carlton Lassiter. There was no arguing against it. His entire time table was quite drastic and rushed in the chain of events that happened. Everything happened to be happening one after the other apart by hours. 

"EVERYONE IS D-D-D-D-DEAD, JULES!"

Shawn was blubbering, upset, shout sinking, clasping his head, upset.

"Even his girlfriend and her kids!" Lashing out as he cupped his forehead lowering his head so upset. "Like they were cleaning up EVERYONE  in my ENTIRE SOCIAL CIRCLE!" Lowering his head as his face was a nice heated red and he was so angry. "EVERYONE around me!"

O'Hara knelt down then rested her hand on his shoulder looking quite concerned listening to his scared weeping. 

"Spencer, touch that tree."  O'hara requested, gently. 

The crying stopped slowly after the request was made. 

"Why?" Shawn asked, baffled. 

Shawn's hazel eyes glazed up toward the younger woman. 

"Just... touch ... the tree." O'Hara requested. 

"I'll humor you." Shawn sniffled getting up to his feet taking her offered hand. "It better be about a cat getting stuck in a tree!"

Shawn got up then pressed his hand against it, cried out, sinking down in a thrash of pain, throwing his head back as the pain throbbed in his head.

Two familiar men running, the sound of boots striking the earth, a flash of images, a chain of events, a man being dragged through the forest with his head hanging and dragging his feet behind him. Dead bodies scattered all over the road that had birds flying overhead. Lassiter pressed against the wall seated alongside a pregnant woman against the wall visibly dead. The wailing of a baby in a dark suit that was so tiny and red being carried through the forest by a red head. 

"Take your hand off the tree, Shawn!" O'Hara cried out rushing over to his side. 

A flurry of images crossing his mind that made him scream in agony falling down his knees as the images were more intense this time around drawing genuine concern and alarm. He opened his eyes then she saw a light gray film over his eyes that shook the grounds of her foundation in wishing it was all real.  He was gasping sinking down sliding his hand down retaining his grip. 

"SHAWN!"

His faded hazel eyes darting from side to side with very little context that made sense searching quickly through the playing images seeking it out.

"SPENCER, LET GO!"

She tugged his hand off then they both fell back and he was panting facing the sky.

"He's alive." Shawn remarked then started to laugh.

Wearing a big familiar smile that was brilliant and lively. He was still alive, that's what mattered, his world wasn't crumbling part due to his sudden and prolonged absence, a sigh of relief carrying through the air. Punctuating it more precisely.

"He's alive..." wearing a smile that was so familiar and sweet, his heartache had faded replaced by a brilliant supernova that came out of a phoenix's ashes, then faced her, laughing, amused, morbidly. "He's alive."

"Can get caught up in the interrogation room...." 

Her blue eyes on him, full of hope. 

Shawn was smiling so radiantly, optimistic, hopeful, not bleak, not sad anymore. Thoughts swirled in his mind thinking it over.And the chaos that he was in had settled into mere dust that had landed to the ground becoming nice and peaceful.

About making a video for the former head detective catching on a conversation of a world. About leaving the burner so he could listen to how sad the psychic was. Nah, he knew the former head detective didn't deserve that window. He didn't need to know how much guilt and regret and anguish at surviving that weighed him down in private. Shawn had to visit that world.

"Shawn, bring them to the graveyard in your continuity." Watching him pant as his arrogant immaturity returned with a bang. "There are a lot of missing people's families who need closure."

Shawn thought it over looking aside then nodded and relaxed facing the detective reaching his hand out then took her hand, sympathetically, giving it a squeeze.

"Ventured here to collect my thoughts not return into that unpleasant chaos... but since a detective is listening to my side of the story," He faced her for a long moment wearing a smile. "I will do that." Then he started to laugh. "Gus kicking and screaming mad at me."

Her eyes were softened upon the younger variation of her fiance appreciating him for who he was before, loving him, affectionately, lovingly. 

"Thank you for the cooperation, Shawn." It felt strange, yet right, thanking him, for all he had done over the years, being able to say it, helped fill holes in her heart and regrets of what hadn't been said. 

"For a friend; a really good one." Shawn finished. 

A brilliant good smile spread all over the detective's face being called 'friend' once more, helping her ease into a possibility forming around the hopeful knowledge and idea. 

He perched himself across from him holding up newspaper.

He looked over spotting himself several years older, both of them wearing jackets, blue matching shirts, and their faces equally as hairy, growing old alongside each other reading the menu. A depressed sigh was heaved from the fake psychic.

Shawn lifted his hand up then proceeded to start mocking him behind his back, set the phone attached to the seat turning on voice recorder.

"I can't believe it's been 10 years."

"Shawn, chill."

"Three years since the incident."

"Shawn, we're at a really expensive restaurant."

"Damn it, man, doesn't it feel wrong that Lassiter isn't a chief by now?" the menu was dropped on to the table and faced his childhood best friend wearing a long face that didn't look right not even the maturity on it and the survivor's guilt. "That he hasn't a life?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Don't you think..."

"When I heard your weak voice over the phone, I was running out of the office, running, scared, speeding, breaking the speed limit, right in time. Finding you in the trunk of that police cruiser was a stroke of luck! The keys in the ignition!"

He lowered his gaze listening to him talk on and on.

"I wasn't thinking in that  moment driving after it only that my best friend's life needed to be saved. Hearing your voice is exactly what Lassiter wanted. Saving your life. That is exactly what he was thinking!"

The older man looked away still emotionally bothered by the events of that day.

"Doesn't feel right to me." His well aging hazel eyes were extraordinarily heavy, not light. "Dead man walking."

"We're living our best life right now despite without a key player calling us often for cases. We're living in a new normal and it sucks but at least.." Gus set the menu down then rested his hands together facing him. "you're here. "

"Not whole."

"It feels right, Shawn."

"At the cost of his life?"

"That is what mattered the most to Carlton Lassiter."

The fake psychic looked aside 

"It isn't the same without him." Was the depressed exhale. 

"Juliet sent a text, there's a crime scene at Rodriquez street Olson street." The phone was put away over a sigh. "Difficult crime scene featuring the role model that is hard to read."

"Who is this high profiled murder victim again?"

The pharmaceutical sales man looked down upon the phone then up. 

"Clair FlannelPillow." was the answer. 

"That would be very funny if she wore nothing but flannel." was a comment out of dry laughter.

The pharmaceutical salesman looked over toward the direction of the younger man sporting a glare. 

"Would you stop mocking my friend? He's a psychic!"

Shawn took out a slip of paper then slapped it on to the table withdrawing the strap and the phone. 

"The world is a lot worse place than you care to imagine without you in it." Shawn said, startling the men.

The two men had girly shrieks lifting their arms up then collided against each other.

"And if you go to this coordinates, you will find him and bring him home to his wife." Continuing on as if he wasn't bothered in the slightest. "You will bring hell to the surface getting justice for him that endangers every single person around you," The fear faded replaced by interest and intrigue.  "It's dangerous, it's risky, there are going to be hired hit men, do you want closure that badly?"

the two men started at the younger man, gaping, stunned, then it faded, as they parted.

"We're..." the pharmaceutical salesman replied. "we're listening."

"And Lassiter is staring at you." he motioned toward the empty seat rendering them silent then motioning over. "He didn't die for you just to.." the older men looked over toward the unoccupied chair. "be this down and unlike yourself. He never left."

His aged hazel eyes stared at him as the old days flooded back at him then watched the young man make a bolt for it.

"What do you say, Shawn?" The pharmaceutical salesman beckoned him on the danger ahead of him. 

He turned around toward the pharmaceutical salesman and lifted up a drink that had pineapple in it wearing a grin. 

"Let's bring hell to them with hellhounds behind us, Gus." A genuine smile. 

The two men appeared on the news for the first time in over three years together. Normally not caught on camera appearing on the scene depending when the cameras had arrived. One of the men lifted the crime scene tape then the other man going under the crime scene tape, side by side, a scene that could cause someone to stop and stare elsewhere recognizing the side profile of the man lifting the tape up then facing the camera wearing a grin.

A grin that was full of mischievous and immaturity. A face that could cause all to stop and gawk at the character. And his familiar but equally as aged companion passing by him turning his attention toward him wearing a equally as alive happy smile bumping fists. 

A sight that could make a given man cry seeing occur in joy.

Then the phone ringing and answering it without glancing at the screen. 

"Head Psychic of the Santa Barbara Police department, head diviner, Shawn Spencer!" He jogged across the front lawn as Gus went ahead up the fleet of stairs. "How can I and the conduit of the spirits help you?"

Shawn tripped and fell over the stairs then knocking down Gus into the crime scene so disorganized as his face became decorated in shock at the response. 

Chapter Text

The door to the basement opened once again.

A loud crack that drew the head turn of the fake psychic who's face wound was numbed by the pain medication left behind. His eyes glued on the side set of stairs turning away from the living area experiencing anxiety bouncing around in his mind toppling down every single piece of calm that had reconstituted after the sudden attack. His adam's apple lifted in response watching the shadow appear against the orange wall and the long thick pant legs as a long and slow applause began. Hollow and empty that was cruel and mean.

Shawn approached out of his curiosity leaving the riceroni behind being steamed as hurt gripped his heart and pain and fear.

"Suurpprrriseee, everyone is alive here!" Wolf stretched his arms out sporting a grin lifting his arms up with a slight flail.

Wolf came to a halt with two of his men behind him keeping their gazed locked on the man. 

His green eyes locked in the pain and distress that the fake psychic was on even the tears at the edge of his eyes that were still raw and his heart still sore from the disaster that took apart his world, sending them all falling and screaming into the black, and separated them all. He looked less vulnerable than he had been three years ago. Screaming and wailing on the floor of the basement down the stairs. Smacking his fist on the floor sinking his head down at his lowest point yet then looking up and facing him wearing suffering and vengeance. Red shot eyes. Tear stained cheeks. Red hot vengeance.

Then slamming the door on him as he started to charge up the stairs with his men in flanking his side.

He loved hearing the grief that was enormous from the fake psychic. He ended up screaming and crying on the basement floor. Nevermind how his men argued and forgot about what he did first. Made hanging out around the outback house a little more entertaining and delightful over the coming months until the screaming stopped and the tears became smaller and smaller until he couldn't hear them as often starting on the first anniversary. His men complained about him ruining gambling and poker and every game in general including the mystery games. Making life miserable for those around him. Pushing them away as the pain was intense from losing. 

Now .. though.. his face ..his face face looked rough and marked by time from the long and lengthy process living with the guilt and the pain. Three years that seemed to harshly age him in a self imposed isolation. He was in a dark blue buttoned up plaid complimenting the color of his pants in contrast to the hoody that the fake psychic was often in. The scars on the side of his face well off to healing now simply zipped up and waiting to fade away.

"How." 

Ticked off lowering his head with a slight sob pressing his fist against his lips closing his eyes.

"How..."

Swallowing once more before finishing the question then then back up facing him with a sniffle approaching the man and lowered his fist now looking up at him.

"How did you bring them all back, you sick monster?"

Finding strength to speak between his tears and heartache.

"The city's finest fake psychic didn't think the man who can take him down so easily had cards up his sleeve." Wolf was laughing at the anger and sadness in the eyes of the fake psychic..

Shawn stepped forward wearing a death glare that could just about killing staring him down in intent.

"There has been fine plans in store for them." Wolf finally admitted in his entertaining mood as he walked up the stairs as the men stepped aside. "Having plans in case they ever came to this house."

His green eyes looked aside reflecting over the disturbing reveal showing them something incredible then taking it away from both of them. Reunions of hand clasping the side of the fake psychic's face then sinking down after several pops. Finding a reason to smile in all that pain and ruining his day. Something that was appealing. He could do that but he was not interested in the slightest in setting it up since he really wasn't up for the pure devastation with trembling bloody hands and standing there starting to sob and scream gazing down at the slumped figure. Sniffling. 

"I can't tell you how often I have had the temptation of inviting your very dear detective over.."

Shawn's eyes were blinded by tears as the man became a standing blurry figure.

"And the other one, so close to your heart," watching Shawn shake his head, it was was delicious. "Who let you into his heart, taking out the key then unlocked and opened his cage.."

How did he know.

"letting in your circus and your little burning torch in the dark into a cage with  only a dangling small spotlight."

Stupid and specific series of words.

"he was demoted because of you."

Tears were freely falling fast down his cheeks.

"You and your partner making police work so lousy."

Taking a couple steps up that followed his lead. Shawn didn't get it all this was plausible where they weren't memories anymore bit alive and breathing and existing without him. He was pretty sure he was dead and then he wasn't dead and it was all so confusing and he hadn't been buried. But they had buried him in their minds in various ways and it still hurt them hearing him and confusing him all the same.

"Another chief has a different view of your influence on the detective."

Hitting right where it hurt the most as his mouth fell open watching him take another step up.

"Wouldn't it be perfect to slay him  at the bottom of his career. Facing the party responsible for his downfall."

Shawn looked at him in murderous and burning  upset emotion.

"Being shooed out a cruel way and forced to leave not as someone distinguished. Never mind inviting him over! It's humiliating and satisfying this way!"

The city loved him. More than Lassiter loved him. He was their pride and joy. No demotion would get in the way of that.

"Retiring early... Such a shame."

Hitting right where it hurt the most as his mouth fell

"Ruining his career." Clicking his tongue facing back and firth momentarily closing his eyes.

It was enough to  make him turn away wiping of his tears thinking of all the things that had been said prior to all this. He grabbed the handle with a glove becoming nice and silent.

"You do realize you are going to ruin that chicken: it's been on the oven for too long." Some genuine criticism drawing a laugh out of the psychic hearing him approach. Getting close and closer.

Enough to elicit a roar that was so unexpected and off kilter being so left field scaring the men at once and taking out a steaming pot so easy with the iron ball attached to his ankle. Flinging the contents of the pan at the man beside Wolf and throwing it aside over the man's pained scream  as the other one just  shrieked and stares in horror. Steam rising into the air over screams.

Shawn's hands clawed into Wolf's face drawing some blood. His untrimmed fingernails sliding down leaving bleeding cathartic wounds that were deep and shut him up.

"I SAVED HIM!" Correcting the record through venomous rage

He was taken back leaving behind gashes in the face of the older man.

Shawn's back rested against the wall then swallowed and sat down looking at his bloodied hand and laughed and giggled then laughed again.

"Treat th... tha... that." Shawn muttered.

Chapter Text

Gus showed up at the old office for the first time in three years without anything case related a week after discovering he was still alive. 

He opened the door then searched about until finding the vacuum cleaner and started it cheerfully on the tip of thrill and excitement floating on cloud nine. He wore a engagement ring on a finger cheerfully, vacuum in such gusto, turning on the phone, then browsing through YouTube, until settling on a old 80s song, then tapping on it, resting the phone on his desk. He started up the vacuum then began the vacuuming. 

The bouncy sound of the 80s echoing through the office. Throwing away old stale snacks into the trash, putting old electronics into a box, taking them out, then coming back restocking the old place. Dusting off the old desks with love and care, removing the old files from Shawn's folder leaving it nice and empty, nice, heavily renewed, and ready to be filled again. He was bouncing on the edges of excitement, replacing old light bulbs with new ones.  He packaged the old electronics than started selling them all living in the sheer fact that Shawn was coming back. 

He could burst out into song, dance, and sing how happy that he was like a part of his soul had been slid back inside his chest like a ancient god's stolen piece was slid back in.

Some killer dance moves that had been choreographed and cry out of joy at his world that had changed over the course of three days like how they changed someones life during  case. 

It took Lazarus 3 days to return from death and bring about the down fall of Jesus through his trusted close friend Judas who regretted it after seeing what was done.

3 days for Shawn to reappear from the pit of silence and darkness, appearing in the light, getting a mere taste of the abnormal chaos that was rampaging outside, confused, and generally concerned for Gus. 

Gus arrived to the secretary's desk. 

"Did you get another call from that number?" Gus asked. 

Brenda looked up toward the pharmaceutical salesman in the middle of admiring her fingernails. 

"There was one." Brenda responded. 

Gus leaned forward on the desk. 

"What did he say?" Gus asked. 

"Didn't say anything," Brenda shrugged in response. "just laughed," Bothered by the memory that was so sudden and abrupt,  her eyes closing by how much it bothered her as a old chill returned. "it's really weird."

His brown eyes rested up on Brenda. 

"Was it happy?" Gus asked. 

"No," Brenda's pause was heavy looking aside gazing back at the long and distant memory. "it sounded..."

"Give me a rough idea just how it sounded." Gus requested. 

Brenda turned her attention up toward the pharmaceutical salesman. 

"Evil." Brenda concluded on the word as Gus's serious face remained up. "Villainous, and amused, rich, it didn't sound so.." she shuddered at the single recollection. "Was that the guy you wanted to be kept in the loop for?"

Gus leaned back up to his feet, lowering his gaze, squeezing his eyes shut, inhaling.

"How long ago was the call..." Gus started to ask.

"Five minutes after your phone number was handed back over." Brenda answered. 

Gus's eyes slowly opened looking down upon her looking greatly disturbed then turned away rubbing his face. 

"Label that number as Shawn's captor, with a capitalized C." Gus instructed. 

"Sure thing, Gus." Brenda said.

Gus turned back toward the young woman. 

"And Brenda, what else have you been doing for the last three years without my number?" Gus asked.

"Handling your schedule, organize meetings, maintain your records, and provide clerical support." she eyed at him quite bothered by the unusual nature of the question. "Did you forget..."

"A lot of things has been going on so yes, naturally." Gus answered, getting a sigh off his chest. "And thank you for..." shaking his head. "The last three years," looking down. "It's been really hard on me. Making me live like a lost zombie in fog."

"Wouldn't describe you as that, Gus." Brenda declined. 

"Then what?" Gus asked. 

"A man who clocked out of caring too much about his life and settled." Brenda replied. 

Gus had a small delightful smile then turned away and withdrew his phone making a call.

"Juliet O'Hara." O'Hara greeted him.

"Whoever has Shawn knows!" Gus shouted. 

"Knows about what?" O'Hara asked. 

"He called me." Gus let it all out causing the younger woman to freeze at her desk staring on as the light became a paled version and horror seeded into the air with her heart beat in her ear. "He has my number!" he came to a pause in his tracks. "My number!"

"Guster, relax, calm, and breath." came the instruction that was smooth and calm that was enough to convince him to do the deed. "It's a waiting game. Least you still have a number to call back." Full of envy. "Don't do anything with it that will make us lose a connection to him."

A single connection to a living man who needed help.

"Got it." Gus said.

"Thanks for the heads up. Talk to me when there's another call."

Held in captivity somewhere alive and well unable to get his hands back on the phone and plant another call shaking the entire police department down to its foundations. A cry for help that couldn't be issued. A deep dread rested on him knowing Shawn had to be threatened in order not to make another call.. or kept out of reach in a cage with the phone away. 

Shawn was here somewhere in Santa Barbara and that was enough to bring his heart back alive through the fire pit of the dark making his heart care a lot more than it had before. 

There was a bounce in his step that hadn't been there for over three years as if the entire world had came to life and could burst out singing at any time. Swaying his hips from side to side during a power walk. 

"Hey, Gus, you look better!"  Charrol called out. 

Gus halted in his tracks facing his colleague at PNP. 

"I had a..." Gus started to laugh, lowering his head, pressing his knuckles against his mouth, sniffling. "Change of existence..." Shaking his head squeezing his eyes so tightly, tickled, amused, then up and tearfully happy.. ".. My best friend is going to appear for my wedding."

"Great!" the crowd loomed at the kitchen, beckoning him over. "Are we invited?"

Gus slowly approached his colleagues at the room.

"I'm inviting less than forty people to the event, friends and family." 

"Do we not count?" Love asked. 

"Shawn.."  Gus approached the doorway of the kitchen, shaking his head. "is a lot."

"We're bring over food if you want to stay cheap for the food." was the offer. 

"The less bill on our wedding plan the better!" Gus accepted the offer, finger gunning back at the crowd and a wink that was followed by a laugh. "We've still picking a wedding venue."

"Who's the lucky gal?" Love asked. 

"Charlene Charlamagne." Gus repeated, proudly. "And  she has two wonderful kids!"

"Talk about instant family!" Charol announced. "Who's the ring bearer?"

"Freddy, Annie is going to be throwing the flowers, and the little unnamed one is expected to be coming three months after the wedding!" Gus was thrilled to bits. "She's naming the baby. She protested about that. I told her if we have one then I'm naming it."

"How did she take it?" Bruce asked, curious. 

"She got her lipstick all over my face while laughing!" Gus announced.

There was a crowd of cheering and happiness for the well off pharmaceutical salesman who's world was lighting up and flourishing becoming brighter than before. 

There was a police officer chasing down a purse thief on the way back to the office and Gus just smiled watching the chaos run on by him while holding up the new vacuum in the box. The air around him didn't feel so stale and paled in comparison to the enormous loss of his best friend out of his life without any meaningful last conversation. He made a mistake in the last one but the next one was going to be better.

He returned into the office taking a turn then went to the center room but paused when he saw Madeleine standing at the desk that screamed Shawn right there that had been neatly organized in his memory. Chips, candy, and a save the day invite. He came to a sudden pause in his tracks as his world suddenly came to a halt in his way facing the familiar blonde who lifted her gaze up facing him wearing worry.

Clear and vivid and active worry made of concern. 

"He called you, too." Gus stated. 

"What case were you two last working on with the police department?"

"Before his disappearance, not any."

"Before Trout entered the picture."

"There was the Christopher Vallen case but the guy went missing before Lassiter could arrest him, the case was dropped,  can't try the guy if he can't be found, like vanished off the face of the earth, and we never really did find him for months. I heard the charges were dismissed because he was found later with a head injury and had no memory of the crime. Really crushing end to the case."

"How did Shawn take it?"

"Shawn took some satisfaction there was some justice done."

"He lost his memory."

"He's technically dead."

"... Black goose..." Madeleine approached the younger man.

"What did he say to you?" Gus asked, intrigued.

"He was scared, regretful, distraught, he told me he was having a hard time taking down a suspect, and then, I heard another voice, and then I heard him yelp." Gus's eyebrows lifted up as his mouth gaped. "Doesn't sound like it's a case that he brings you into."

"Doesn't sound anything like the Christopher Vallen case. He is one of the victims to the crime; he survived. Shocker that a victim survived in a case. Doesn't terribly happen often enough."

"Then why is it called that..." Madeleine was thoroughly confused. 

"His dad's wife asked us to do it on his behalf, paid us really well, immediately after being called by a neighbor., the chief didn't call us in for that one." He looked aside then back grimacing quite unhappy about the reveal.

Madeleine rested her hand on the side of his shoulder.

"So both of you were right there at the crime scene."

"One minute after the police arrived and so was the ambulance." He looked aside gazing on toward the hallway remembering it all. "Shawn was really on my butt about getting there fast treating it as something urgent, so serious."

Madeleine's eye strayed down toward the hallway in the direction that Gus was staring in remembering the flashing lights as Shawn lead the charge beneath the darkness with his hands in fists. 

"So pressing, like every minute that passed meant the crime scene wasn't going to be exactly the way it was before."

Gus shook his head frowning at the strange and perplexing memory of the normally joking man being this serious at the hallway.

"Claiming forensics were going to be swarming and he needed to see it exactly as it was." Easily able to summon the man's voice standing there rushing and beckoning the salesman from the desk. "There are many times that I had seen him that way but after a phone call from a stranger was a whole different matter."

Madeleine studied the pharmaceutical salesman. 

"We're just waiting for the first move." Gus explained. 

"So Henry knows." Madeleine assumed. 

"Mr Spencer doesn't know." Gus denied. "He would be pursuing this case and..."

"Goose doesn't need his dad barging in and being shot as much as you want to be there by his side leading the charge recklessly."  Madeleine concluded the idea that Gus could feel in his bones in the back drop of fear.

"It is not that, Ms Spencer." Gus replied. 

"Then what is with all the secrecy?" Madeleine inquired, so heavily confused. 

"We will tell him after this case with Rudolph Curity is over." Gus promised, swaying his hand. "He killed a guy who fooled him into thinking he was Shawn." he watched her mouth fall open and sink. "It's the only way that we can be sure that we won't lose him to that bastard."

Madeleine took his hands then gave them a squeeze looking up toward him in admiration seeing a young boy that had grown up.

Chapter Text

Another day, the same routine.

Waking up, taking a nice long cold bath, preparing for the day, shaving, dressing up, then exiting the bathroom. He thought about his routine in the 2020s that had a more thorough digital touch. Everything was smart even the mirrors and the toys that were being marketed to children. Robosen came to mind. Talking toys like Buzz Lightyear and Evil Emperor Zurg. Even toys that transformed upon command.

He was in a fine dark suit that was generic with a splash of yellow on the tie and a pretty cool pin trembling a star with a moon and a cow. Fancy and obsessive that ancient civilization could have based gold figures after in admirable ways. He combed his hand down the suit looking satisfied.

He wore scars now that were in the process of healing from the attack of the fake psychic. Brilliantly stitched up after a trip to the hospital. Really remarkable repairs taking a quick visit back to his original reality and letting time mend the wound leaving a long and wicked scar behind on the sides of his face. Pronounced even so. 

He looked remarkable and handsome looking into the the mirror.

Then left the room and was handed a piece of paper by Drewisy.

"Won't believe what I found in Mr Spencer's mail box." Drewisy replied.

Wolf laughed out loud going down then depends the stairs and walked through the lobby heading over to the basement door. He opened it then descended down the flight of stairs. His men in close proximity keeping guard.

Wolf descended down the steps of the basement having a merry laugh.

"You are going to love this, psychic." Wolf was thoroughly amused.

Shawn was from afar with a hammer, raising it above the cuff that seemed ingrained into his skin and part of it then lowering it gently down to the floor facing the man who's gaze was on a level of paper. The hammer was thrown aside underneath the sectional out of the psychic's line of sight.

Drewisy descended down the steps alongside another brute 

"Look at this." Wolf held out the paper.

Shawn stared at the photograph featuring Gus so happy in the arms of a heavily pregnant woman and two kids around them.

"Lovely little couple..."

His hand trembled seeing his dad's name on it.

"Her name wasn't Charlene when I met her."

"His problem, not yours. Like I said, where do you fit into that picture?"

His hazel eyes looked up full of hurt, disgust, and boiling hate.

"If he had a card for on my desk then there is room enough in his life."

"He is settling down to being a family man and you... You should know what family means."

"Really terribly well."

"You.. you are a action adventure star that leaves death behind senselessly. "

"Says the guy who did just that three years ago!" Shawn had his spirit back.  "That wasn't my doing!"

"And you know what villains like me do?" Wolf gestures back toward himself as he kept on talking. His rich deep voice becoming softened and gentle.

"Hurt people and ruin lives. " Shawn hissed.

Wolf looked smug gazing down the fake psychic before laying the fatal verbal blow.

"We make sure it stops." Pinching the side of the psychic's face. "The one making dragging moved ones on this path, so yes," then gently patting it. "It is all your doing."

With that Wolf retreated upstairs taking along the men and the door slammed shut. A sound that boomed in the room making the fake psychic flinch in the chair.

Shawn crumbled in the chair upon the horrible reminder. His heart heavy remorse and emotional pain that stung so dearly.

If he simply let things be then they would still be around.

Just like now.

The next day crawled around 

Shawn stared at the edge of the forest alongside Drewisy and another muscular man standing at the edge where where the mansion met the woods that had tall and foreboding vibes with a nice green cover made of various leaves. The longer that he stared into it the more unsettling it felt peering into the forest. Ominous feelings that danger lurked in here staring back at him.

Still had no idea where he was outside of Santa Barbara asides to it could be anywhere outside in the outskirts that bordered another state or it could be california's forest. A seemingly endless sea of forests that were split into four. 

He spotted the familiar road from across and the pavement made of familiar brown bricks. There was only few places outside of the city that had bricked roads. Which sprung to mind Lombard Road in San Francisco but then the forest said otherwise as did the cable channel. 

The mansion was tall and looming and wide. Bright with whits walls. Square windows. Red tiles on the roof as it's spaniard heritage stood out quite blazing to the eye. Could practically plant solar panels there that stood out to the human eye contrasting it making modern times stand out. Remembering when he was first dragged here with his head pounding and struggling and upset that felt a long time ago.

He heard a series of footsteps approach then he whirred on the direction of Wolf with his brown hair flinging with dramatic effect and wore a annoyed glare facing him.

"You had my ass out dragged to get some fresh air?"

"That too. " Wolf remarked.

"Dude, could have just told me." He motioned his hand toward the cuffed ankle that looked abnormal more than usual as if it had absorbed the cuff like a tree making it look swollen. The fake psychic clasped his hands together. "No reason to make a bolt for it."

Wolf stared at the leg snapping his fingers thinking what to do.

"Bossy guy," Dustin leaned aside facing him. "isn't that supposed to be growing in rather than being horrifyingly absorbed into him?"

"Shut up." Wolf replied in the middle of his horrified gawking stare.

"Oh! Oh!" Shawn wiggled his ankle proceeding to laugh and gazed up wearing a smile facing the older man. "am I the one scaring you?"

"It's annoying." Wolf answered.

"We'll have the SCP handled very shortly." Dustin said.

The fake psychic's head whirred over toward Dustin.

"It's becoming part of your ankle, which, by the way, is just an abscess at this point," was the musing of the well aging captor who looked so young instead of being so old thanks to a little thing called genetics. "seen it once in a decade from now." Shaking his head at the disturbing image. "Really nasty surprise after you used that hammer."

"What happened to that kid?"

"I had him for six months and that was it. Got into her better half and you were out of my grasps." Then he snapped his fingers. "Drewisy, get Olha."

Wolf wore a smile facing the fake psychic in a moment of delight. 

"Getting so dull and simple down there full of everything the heart desires."

"Not dulled, still sharp." Shawn protested.

"Hmmmm," humming as he stood face to face in front of the well aging fake psychic pressing his two fingers together then rubbed them in a moment of glee that was profound. "deeeliiiiiccccciilouus."

Shawn turned his attention toward the forest that he squinted.

"What are you planning? Throwing me out into the forest to suffer the elements trying to get back to this prison?"

He looked back toward Wolf then was struck by a bat.

"Sounds appealing." Wolf said 

Wolf beckoned the taller member, Dustin, to swing the psychic over his shoulder.

"Sure thing bossy guy." Dustin replied.

Shawn came back to with his head loudly pounding. 

His gaze fixated on a nearby window seeing his face was freshly stitched once again. He looked over spotting that he was in a limo and surrounded by men who's gaze rested on him. Drewisy and Dustin were in the middle of having a glass of wine. The only drink left for him was a pine apple flavored smoothie. He looked down observing the iron ball looked smaller.

Shawn looked aside spotting it was suddenly night that brought about fresh confusion. He noticed the buildings had barely changed in his absence. The world outside hadn't changed.. but had he changed in the basement of the house?  Being silent, closed off, having a difficult time coping, crying on and off the first month. His voice sounded hoarse for a time. Set for life and he didn't have his best friend to share it with.

His heart aches for his best friend  who left a throbbing hole behind. Still aches for him after all these years living in a cloud of thick and heavy depression.

He looked at his leg ankle and it was thoroughly drained. The iron cuffs felt like staring at another abnormal part of himself that took on another form that felt like it had always been there all his life and all the memories that he had was fantasy.

Wolf didn't explain how or what happened how this came to be. How this all happened. Only a big loud applause that was slow and contempt almost celebrating stupidity. Gleefully stretching his arms out.

"Suurpprrriseee, everyone is alive here!"

An entire world right at his finger tips that he could run into if he fought and clawed and gnawed his teeth and used the iron ball as his weapon. And Gus had everything that he ever needed and alive and happy and mourning the loss of his best friend that took a part of his heart to the great beyond. 

He sipped from the smoothie taking a good long sip from it and relaxed.

"Ow! Brain freeze."

Wolf laughed from afar at the self inflicted misery.

"That was not my doing." Wolf reiterated.

Shawn sent a sharp glare back over full of hurt and anger and resentment then cupped his face feeling the brain freeze clasp his brain and sent shivers down it.

The ride came to a sudden halt. The fake psychic gazed aside focusing on into the scenery then paused recognizing the building. The trees from afar and the ionic hedge as the limo resumed driving in up front to the building.

The long white tarps floating outside summoned but he wind. All the windows were off revealing not a light was on as of it were under construction.  Still retaining its familiar doors and railing. The familiar trees by the entrance of the building gently swaying to the wind.

Shawn swallowed, hard, facing the building that brought back sweet and warm memories seeing it a shell of itself the turned his attention back  toward the crew who looked over toward the building itself eager for the events set to play out there. Excited for all that was set.

The vehicle paused.

"Out." Wolf commanded.

Shawn was the first one out of the car then joined by the others.

He looked down the stepped forward with the iron ball feeling less heavy. 

He walked up the flight of stairs heading up feeling the railing and squeezed his eye closed. Memories throttling through his being that are emotionally painful to walk through but he walked through itsl as if it were a breeze. It was a slow.ascent without the heavier iron ball. A slow walk with something dense hooked to his ankle. 

His eyes opened facing the door that he sped out of only three years ago with Lassiter after him telling him they were not leaving without a security detail.

"Lassie, it'll be fine!"

Lassiter's hard cold blue gaze resting on him .

"Your dad is dead!" Was Gus's reply.

"But Guussss." Shawn plead turning toward him. "Not you, too."

"You are out numbered,  spender." Lassiter replied. "Call it a day"

"Chief, you are not going to lose us." Shawn replied 

"We already lost Karen, your mother, Woody, and your father all this week."

He was so scared of losing Shawn in hindsight.

Shawn wasn't scared, confident in the acting chief, his fiance, proud of him for handling the chair so well in light of tragedy, smiling back. Facing the man that he built up over the years. He could have done it so easily making sure nothing came to pas but the odds were stacked against them.

"Not on your watch."

"No investigations until we have the culprit in holding." Lassiter added.

"We need to pay the bill!" Gus protested.

"No buts, Guster!" Lassiter shot back, on edge.

"See, that's the bad side of a security detail, Gus!" Shawn shot back at Gus, irked. Their journal activities being hampered by a irritating picking of those around Shawn. "Its not a fun ride in the city like Whitney Houston!"

"If I knew this was going to be part of the damn thing I might have disagreed with it." Gus was equally scared and upset by the events of the week.

"McNab! Your first duty as a detective!'

"Detective!" The pair cried out.

Their familiar friend emerged in a nice fitting suit drawing smiled from them and pride and admiration.

He saw a piece of paper on the window that read 'old police department, please call for new directions to the new one around usual working hours'that made him shake his head. A moment granted just to pay one visit to his old stomping ground.

He gripped the handle of the building then walked inducing the jarring flashback of the soft orange glow and complete darkness contrasting one another. A moment of pause was had  reacquainting himself of what his mind expected and what was current. A horrible thing facing life then nothingness. Disorienting for a moment. 

He trudged in dragging the iron ball that was taxing him quite significantly. He climbed up the stairs slowly watched by the men who looked at him.

Shawn faced the busy hall of the police department. Not the one that has tarps flying about and wide gaping space that had trash scattered about. Walking over the emblem of the Santa Barbara Police department. Scattered leaves away with his foot clearing away from the shield.

He dragged himself further remembering it as it all was with a rush of emotions replying old scenes that made his eyes stung. His dad's old desk. O'Hara's spot across from the room that had once been an office. He restored the office to its glory passing by it remembering how he walked through this area with Gus all happy.

He trudged his way to The Gap, walking between shadows and pale moonlight pouring in every way, his heart ready to fall, visualizing all of then there at their desks and some walking about around that area. The Gap meant a lot. 

He fell this knees when he happened upon a familiar gold plague.

A loud sob escaped as he rested his hands on the floor and hung his head in front of the exact spot where the old desk had once been. Kneeling down to being ignored by a specter that was engrossed in living a moment. His mind playing tricks on him with the golden glow and the familiar sound of phones ringing bringing it alive as a welcome reprieve from misery.

Or was it? Petting the dog by taking to its old haunting grounds and letting it mope around. Making the pain from a loss come back tenfold. No, it wasn't tenfold. He had it worse the first month mourning his fiance, Shawn remembered.

It was kinder now and the ache in his heart had softened, dulled, less as sharp, yet still summoned tears of yearning. The pain of losing his long term romantic partner had lessened over time. Someone who loved him as the entire world and someone that he loved equally the name with the same desire to help others and serve the city's scheming criminals a fresh plate of steaming justice that was hard to swallow.

His figure slouched hunched over the golden plague over sobs on the pale blue moonlight pouring in upon him all alone in the silent devastation that still lingered after all was sold and done.

He grasped the golden plague, his hand trembling, lifting it up, the light flashing across his face, tears falling on to the surface. Having a good cry considering himself a widow. He was a widow in the emotional sense. They had been a thing off and on over the years until deciding to commit after the divorce was finalized. 

Shawn remained there for a long moment sniffling here and there. 

He got up to his feet then turned away leaving the area. 

The iron ball making him lag taking his sweet time descending the steps. 

They were all memories to him, memories that were all selective, gone, kaput. Precious and dear to his mind that he held close to his chest. And they were also alive and well flourishing without him not dealing with the sudden onslaught of an entire army of men. He leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs remembering the first gun shot then another and another as gun fire was exchanged. Calling Lassiter who was already on his way with the entire department.

"Carlton, they're here!" A call that ended the light mood and caused it all to turn serious as all the sound turned off as the prior conversations that were going on at the time came to a sudden halt as if a bomb had been dropped and exploded.

A call that wrecked his frame over and over remembering it torturing himself over for months.

"Baby, do not MOVE from your father's place!" Barking back over the sound of rushing footsteps and murmuring heard throughout the corridor of the police department. "Lay low!" So rattled with his voice raised. "Wait to show yourself at my order! These men are out for blood. And we have all the equipment necessary to break them down and stop this carnage right in it's tracks!"

Shawn fell back down to his knees with a loud wail smacking his fist against the floor and a scream. 

His chest felt sore and heavy looming right over the floor remembering this is the last place his fiance stood. A variation of it anyway, as the entire department marched out, running, the whole army, military grade equipment being snatched from their places, moving fast, acting fast, paper work being signed fast, calls being made, police cruisers and ambulances being made of a potential multiple casualty situation. 

And they had dealt with that gruesome aftermath that was high paced and terrifying and so unusual that could make a given man sick to his stomach feeling the change of a familiar normal that collapsed. Terror taking it over. So chaotic that it belonged to a old movie from the 90s due to the exaggerated nature of the crime that was bleak, dark, serious, and so much gun fire.

Finally, the scream of guilt and heartache ended as he panted looming over looking down at his hands that were still bloody. Everyone was dead because he couldn't stop investigating the case even after the smug bastard made it clear he couldn't. It made so much sense why. He was through, way too through, dead certain and arrogant of tying up all the details except for some very little small ones that were big ones in hindsight. He couldn't attend their funerals because he already attended them all in a metaphorical sense facing dead people who's times were running out. 

Such horrible morbid thoughts. 

He made his decision not to attempt escaping to save their lives this time.

He lifted up to his feet feeling emptiness in his chest and descended down the steps. 

Lassiter was going to comeback for the plague eventually after sorting through his box tonight. 

Shawn took a turn as his vision cleared feeling tired and woozy.

Oh... the smoothie was drugged.  It was slow acting. He shouldn't be this tired. It was the only rational explanation. 

He opened the door then stumbled forward facing the men grasping the railing then struggled to remain attached to the railing descending down then slumped into Dustin's arms with his arms dangling. 

Shawn came back to seated in a chair with his head feeling heavy.

The two men who had dealt tying him down withdrew from his sides.

"The room is sound proof, scream away, it's really well hidden." Dustin advised, looking down upon the fake psychic who's hands were tied down by thick rope. "It'll make sense why this is being told."

His hazel eyes were on Dustin and Drewyish watching them depart through the hidden door then his attention returned to the screen. 

"It's occurred to me that this.. issue.. of your friend being the catalyst of the reason why the Christopher Vallen case was reopened and properly closed.. really hasn't been dealt with properly." He flicked on the lights. "Now, we are."

Shawn saw himself three years younger and Gus seated side by side restrained. 

"What do you want, dude?" Shawn heard himself inquire. 

Wolf withdrew a long pretty knife from the sheath then wiggled it from side to side. 

"Remember, Gus," Wolf sang, cheerfully, amused. "the only reason why he's dead is because you brought him to the party. You could have avoided this all, it's not on him, it's all on you," Walking around the pair as the pair exchanged a glance. "not him," Shaking his head then admiring the frame of the younger man who's eyes were flashed open. "remember that as he leaves you behind like he did for ten years."

"How do you KNOW that?" Gus asked, sharply. 

"Yeah, we need a villainous monologue." his younger counterpart piped up. "Give us one!" Beckoning his head up facing the older man. "Every great villain gives one! Every single criminal mastermind! It's a law for a reason!"

He was silent watching it all play out listening to the heart beat ringing in his ear. 

"Don't need you." Sliding the blade up.

"So much arrogance in that excuse for a man!"

He was all teared out looking aside having little to nothing to cry about. It was a better trade. He looked over then back lowering his gaze. 

"Know exactly how we got from point A to point C." Resting the tip of the blade beneath the younger counterpart's chin. " Start to finish, it's really unspoken and easy to rotate in your mind, you know it, in your little caring heart."

His counterpart looked aside and squinted, really hard, seeing him alone, utterly, completely alone, and so sad, and resigned. 

His jaw fell then gazing back in horror facing the man as it dawned on him. His heart beat echoing slowly in his ears. Facing death being delivered by a cruel demon that lacked wings or heart but of anger and vengeance that was so ugly it could make an entire book full of torment and twisted architecture. Something horrible was going on and all that could be done was being thankful it wasn't Gus about to be slaughtered. 

"Gus..." He looked over toward him. "I... I.. I never meant to hurt you this way."

"No, no, no, NO! You will not be killing Shawn Spencer first!"

Shawn looked over toward Gus, his face relaxed, somber, facing him. 

"It's really not up for debate, Gus." A small whisper that was a whisper, not like the old whispers they once shared.

"Kill me first!" A single tear fell from the aging psychic's face remembering something from years ago, Gus trying to give him closure trying not to let him torture himself before calling it quits and going up to the great beyond. "I'm going to die in an unsanitary way with that blade!"

"Guuusss."

"I'll die of an infection while the police are on their way and the ambulance on their way to try saving our lives!"

"Gus!"

"Honest!"

Wolf's figure trembled in the middle of laughter. 

"Remember, Guster," Wolf joined Gus swaying to his side. "years from now," Tapping on the pharmaceutical salesman's nose then withdrawing returning over to the fake psychic's side. "remembering this moment," He leaned forward. "He could've been married by now."

"No! You're not taking him away like that!"

"Gus, stop it!" His counterpart  shouted.

Gus looked over. 

"You are Mr Perfect, you got a whole career, not messed up like me, and I want you, to live a normal boring drone energy sucking life telling stories about me." He looked over spotting the iphone glowing and buzzing against his pants. "I have only been holding you back for too long and being an accomplished pharmaceutical sales rep climbing the ladder genuinely without my involvement."

"Your involvement? What did you do? Shawn? What did you do?"

His counterpart lowered his head hanging it there, accepting the cost of the outcome. 

"Gus, just promise me you'll..."

Gus glared back at Shawn as it all clicked. 

"Shawn, was one of my bosses having a affair or not."

His counterpart turned his head and saw, saw him, their gazes meeting, saddened aging eyes meeting familiar confident kind ones, then his eyes swayed over Gus. 

"My best friend wanted to be a detective and have a normal job. His wish was a command that couldn't be passed up." He watched Gus's mouth hang on. "I'm glad we got those additional years together, that, that, that was the best ride I had in AGES!" then lifting his head up wearing a smile cast upon Gus. "Come on, son! Make me proud."

Wolf returned over to the psychic then stabbed him in the chest over and over and over. 

All he could hear was the sound of Gus's screams of anguish, pleas, begging, screaming his name out, being torn apart spiritually watching his friend being hacked at like he was a giant sack of meat and his blood flying. If he was being stabbed physically then so was Gus's heart in a different sense that inflicted so much harm. And when it harmed Gus, it also hurt the older man virtually unseen. 

Shawn's mouth hanging open getting a perfect horrible image. He heard his counterpart's girly shrieks until they couldn't be made anymore. Becoming nice and silent falling over becoming unresponsive as the stabbing resumed. 

He watched Wolf step back then drop the weapon  as the door flung open revealing the head detective holding a gun in his hands and looking so youthful wearing intent and utter rage. 

"Step away from my fiance," lifting it forward for emphasis. "evil double layered scumbag."

It was better that Gus had died after all instead of Shawn, the never ending torture, staring, coming to terms.

"We're done here." was the reply of Wolf who sped out the other door over the screaming of the salesman. 

Shawn watched O'Hara free Gus 

"Shawn, come back!" Gus cried, stopped by O'Hara from rushing on after the bleeding out fake psychic, his voice cracking, face ugly, tears falling so fast. "SHAWN! COME BACK! COME BACK!"

Lassiter cut the rope off his frame then picked him up into his arms and carried him off into the darkness leaving him behind seeing a far much better outcome than the one he lived. Full of uncertainty whether he lived or not. His head hung there feeling so much sorrow for the young man that he had one who had lost everything and sympathy for himself. 

The worst part was how he found it in his heart to forgive himself for his role in the entire tragedy. 

Weird seeing himself being stabbed was strangely... cathartic... some punishment that eased a bit of the burden on his mind and projecting his role in it all had to be playing a large part. A representation of that role brought to his viewing. Weirdly satisfying some weird form of justice that he had on his mind by the hands of someone who performed his role in the tragedy all so happily.

Blood splatter decorated the walls, all there was left was two chairs, and silence, and a large pronounced terrifying void not knowing what happened after the fact. A simple gray room that only had the lingering sounds of horror rotating in the mind of the fake psychic. 

He was seated there for what felt to be hours simply waiting for his return. He felt bad for Gus, a bit guilty, putting him through that nightmare, not the same guilt, but different and it was notably lighter. 

Chloroform was pressed against his mouth then he passed out. 

Chapter Text

A complete month passed and Lassiter was finally ready to show his face back to the streets over the objections of his doctor and physical therapist. His baby wasn't ready to be seen on, she wasn't done quite baking, her organs hadn't finished quite developing, she needed the attention of medical professionals to continue tending to her with machines and tubes maintaining her development. He returned to the house for the first time in weeks that left him sore and his heart aching for an old normal that was never going to come back. 

He opened then opened the mail for the first time, sorting through the mail, finding an invite from Gus among the collection, letters from friends and family, spam, things that were so light and part of a familiar bitter normal. There was even a letter from Victoria. His heart ached for the woman who decided to quit him and left on her terms long after he came around to becoming a better man. He didn't deserve her not even as a friend. He had to see what she had to say. 

He pried open the letter gazing down upon the words that were full of sympathy and asking how he was doing. 

He tended to the bedroom that was meant for a little boy but instead... he paused, observing it a bright pink, decorated in cop bears, cop butterflies, space rangers, that drew him in to the room. A small envelope resting right there that he tore open and saw that Gus and his moms had done heavy lifting getting the whole thing set up during his initial hospitalization. There was even a cop bear resting in the little bed prepared for the baby that hadn't been named yet. Drawing a  strong emotional response out of his heart and from his eyes that stained the paper. 

Lassiter paid the bills in a little over an hour then the beat cop dressed up for the occasion ready to hear whether or not they found Shawn's remains.. and the insidious third party who tried to flush his entire life away easily. 

He was going to personally bring in Rudolph Curity himself one or another in this horrible year.

Lassiter took out a doughnut then left the house.

Gogolack and Molly had multiple screens at the secret lair.

Screens glowing a gentle blue against the darkness of the house that had very little lights on in the room.

The screens were all set up and additional equipment was brought in that supplied additional computer power. A mission that took over a week and setting up the system and hacking into various security systems perched outside all of the buildings of Santa Barbara. An endeavor that was worth while. The whole building of the program took a whole month granting it access and helping it become stealthy so it didn't get picked up.

Some close calls were had almost being caught in the act of sneaking into the various networks and companies and homeowner security system.

The pair stared at the screens. Still and silent that threatened to shatter upon the world of something new entering the picture quite unexpected for the married couple. Waiting for something chaotic to rush in and stop them in their tracks doing something very illegal like it happened in a cop show.

There was definite tension in the air regarding taking the step. There was doubt whether or not it was too late to start the search for the man responsible for staying low. Whether or not he was found and all they would get for their trouble would be his remains being found.

Stalemate had been reached when it came to progress regarding Shawn Spencer.

Staring at the customized image of the city that was set up for the screens.

Molly's small hand rested on Gogolack's far larger hand.

The program was resting on the program right there waiting to be used.

Gogolack looked up facing his hot role model for a wife as if she was fashioned by Zeus's wife personally then sent down from the heavens that parted then swiftly gently closed behind her and waltzed into his life.

"Let's for it for Shawn."

His fingers flew on the new keyboard sending in the command and uploading the file labeled Robbins Bobbins Slobbins.

It all came to life. Coding flying on a black window that popped up displaying the dominoes that were falling into place one by one as functions began to run and sub programs were executed. Windows decorated the massive and wide screens made of various screens were getting decorated in various feeds. Moving and playing images as the program did its thing scanning for faces checking through current and new feed. They watched themselves appear in the feeds leaning forward.

Molly rested her hand on the seat rest of the chair as her heart was beating a mile a minute.

Slowly but suddenly it caught on to his face and tracked him down to a distinctive 90s car that looked rather beat up. Old and still chugging around the city. Flashes of him getting into the car.

Gogolack made a video then sent it over to Shawn's number that dinged twice. Once in Curity's trophy room then another time behind a book that rattled an entire world and made everything go silent hearing the ding.

Gogolack: we got his license plate!

Another ding that would make a man turn around toward the phone that had been forgotten about as it hid between the passage of a book that closed long ago.

Gogolack: You can come soon!

Molly took off her phone from her bra then dialed the tip line as the pair laughed at the break through that was made in the case.

"Santa Barbara Police department tip line." Trout answered.

The phone smacked on the receiver after a few moments, the first real break into the case, bringing in a murderer. The first real major break in the case that was rather significant.

He emerged out of the office as he swung the door open.

O'Hara whirred over in the direction of the chief lifting her face up from the case file.

"We got a lead for the man who stole the remains, and I want everyone on the street looking for this car. It is a red Pontiac firebird that has seen better days and I want this man BROUGHT IN ALIVE."

Everyone stared at the chief.

"Preferably! Now get out and canvas for that damn car!"

The department was all on their feet running about.

Chapter Text

Shawn was tied to another chair.

Looking down into the dark where a spotlight came on right on cue.

He looked down the window observing himself and Gus, eight years younger. Skinny as a stick. A very baby faced Burton Guster. God, where had the years gone? Painful reminders that he once used to be a free man. He used to exist outside of the basement.

Across from them was a very familiar irritated detective and his lovely junior detective in a suit and high heels.  Lassiter looked so, so, so angry, trying to break free of the restraints.

Shawn knew the entire department was devoting soon their resources with O'Hara there. Prized and lovely and adorable.

"Detective Lassiter!" Gus shouted.

Lassiter looked up the familiar sound of the young pharmaceutical salesman's voice.

"Jules!" Shawn shouted. 

"They got you too!" Gus added. "Damn!" He looked over toward Shawn. "This case is out of control!'

"Spencer?" Lassiter called out.

"Gus?" O'Hara said, baffled. 

The whole gang back together. They were never parted in hindsight even after gunfire. Their days simply continued in different fluxerations in the enormous multiverse... and the possibility that the endeavor to destroy his entire life in bullets had failed in its tracks right there. A reminder that it all froze  and the crowd got to finally relax and catch their breathe and laugh it off. 

"I was wrong, O'Hara." Lassiter admitted, bitterly. "I will give you fifty bucks when this over."

Shawn from above was crying seeing Lassiter so youthful. There. Period.

Young with the Romulan hair style that seemed to have been made by a barber from another world who fancied one hair style. Present and breathing and seated there among the crowd unable to reach for his gun. Shawn's tears were freely falling remembering his fiance in their private and secretive relationship that started then. The one night stand that became something more the more that he hung around and tugged him out of the cage. 

Griping the arm rest of the chair as Wolf came into sight with a long gun that had a silencer.

"It's a shame she won't be able to collect that in a few minutes." Wolf mused.

"Don't you dare!" The younger Shawn Spencer shouted. 

"Oh, but I can." He looked up toward the window that had pitch black on there as the younger man was shouting at him.

"No, you can't!" Shawn shouted over the ear piece. "Don't kill her!"

"I will shoot you down where you stand after getting out of binds." A promise issues.

A plea and a sob for a talented good woman's life that meant something. 

"Lovely fangless threat."  Wolf said 

"Not a threat." Lassiter shot back.

"She means nothing to me at that time!" A scream that came from the heart that still felt sore from losing her.

Wolf approached the young woman lifting the gun then paused 

"Is that true now.." Wolf remarked.

"Yes!" Lassiter and Shawn shouted in unison.

He turned his attention toward the others.

"Kill Lassie, Shawn can live with it. Gus can. Juliet can. Vick can."

Sincerity at picking a life. A great one. One that would rather be cut down so her future was preserved being there. A life worth trading  for.

"What is a... "  Wolf paused, heavily. "Lassie?"

Shawn and Gus exchanged a glance as O'Hara stared at him.

"...Another psychic." O'Hara muttered.

Lassiter looked up and down sharply in confusion as the younger Shawn squinted searching for something to scrutinize as the lovely thick locks of red blocked sight of the ear bud in his ear. 

"It's a lovely short hand name for the detective Lassiter." Shawn explained from above remembering it all. "It was Juliet's idea She started it! I happened to have liked it and carried on with it!"

Wolf turned toward Lassiter.

"Then it is the other detective.." Wolf decided. 

Lassiter braced himself for the sudden end.

"Ow! Ow stop it!  The spirits.. " his counterpart's voice became high pitched and pained. "they tell me you committed a crime! A crime only they can solve!"

He leaned up then faced the fake psychic wearing a smile.

"Truth is, Spencer.." He turned toward the younger counterpart getting all into his face. "It's already been solved..." Wiggling the gun from side to side welling a charming smile. "Where I'm from."

Their faces fell all at once from the strange and unsettling response. 

"Where you are from?" Lassiter asked. "What state?"

"Not state." Wolf replied 

"Country?" O'Hara asked.

"Dimension."  Wolf said, simply. 

Gus leaned aside for a whisper.

"This man is severely mentally ill." Gus said. "Talk about a bad mental health day."

"Sssssh." Shawn hushed him.

"By you, Spencer." Wolf concluded. 

"The spirits seem to have confused his mind terribly." Shawn remarked 

"Or I can kill your friend instead of him." Wolf remarked.

The gun swerved toward the pharmaceutical salesman.

"Don't you dare!" Shawn shouted.

"Don't you do it!" A roar that came from the caring heart. "You killed him once!"

"Yes, yes,"

"If you shoot him then you are DEAD!"

"I did, once."

"Died by my hand?"

"And I enjoyed it." 

Lassiter was greatly horrified wearing a long cold stricken expression.

"Talk about some sick erotic homosexual fantasy." Lassiter was disturbed.

He looked over to his side then down the window.

"Is killing him once not enough for you?"

"Hmmmm..." Swaying the gun from side to side thinking it over. "killing your assistant," turning Gus's face from side to side. "Been there done that."

Gus whimpered feeling the weight of the gun against his face squeezing his eyes so shut in a moment that was disturbing to the head detective.

"Okay, you are really unwell." Shawn admitted. 

"The case is never going to happen here I chose, this really specifically for this reason."

He was angry and scared for the behalf of the boys. Eight years younger than him and they were practically kids, now he understood why his Dad called people a few years younger than him kids. So young and full of life having a blast. Innocent lives. Glowing with gold that couldn't make them rich but they were rich.

"Destroyed my life!" Shawn railed against the corporate CEO in the ear. "Took it away from me! Ruined it. Left a dog pile of dead bodies that you dragged me away from! I made that happen!" There was heat in the intensity of his anger. "Don't punish those kids for what I've done!"

He watched Wolf pass back and forth along the four seated detectives. 

"Eenie meenie minnie mow. cross the tiger by the tie..what's the rest of that jersey rhyme?"

"It is eenie mine moe catch the tiger by the toe!" Shawn shouted.

"Never heard it in that peculiar phrase." O'Hara remarked. 

"My mistake, it's cross the tiger by the toe." Wolf corrected. 

The gun from side to side unable to decide food to deliver the fatal bullet to. Nice and heavy in the silent moment for everyone was scared. Gus was dripping in sweat that coated his entire squeezing his eyes closed with a whimper

"If he hollers, let him go," Lassiter spoke up then the gun aimed at him. "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe."

Shawn closed his eyes bracing for the gun shot to ripple in the air.

"Oh, and your psychic isn't a psychic after all, Detective O'Hara, if anyone is to blame..." Waving the gun back toward her approaching her listening to the screams of the aging fake psychic in the chair. "it's someone who barely has any psychic abilities," Getting closer and closer being vulgarly threatened. "he confessed," Taking delight in the fear consuming the aging man. "in his plea for me to spare his partner three years ago."

Gus looked on toward the fake psychic who's head jerked up and paled. 

"Thought you said you would never.." Gus started. 

"Never in a million dreams!" was the  whisper

"Before we carry on..." The gun swerved back toward Lassiter then he approached him. "There is something you just really have to see," he turned toward the window. " Dustin..." He approached the salesman. "Lights."

A bright light came on then their entire attention served over toward the window of the once occupied warehouse seeing a man bearing a strong resemblance to Shawn screaming as Wolf approached Gus. Shaking the chair in a great struggle screaming off the top of his lungs and his face a bright shade of red screaming and screaming in the ear of the tall red head. 

"Presenting Shawn Spencer.." 

The gun swerved from side to side as the air became still. 

"I had to bolt your chair in because.. it just so happens.."

He walked around the four debating who to shoot and spell a horrible tragedy.

"if that happens, throwing yourself off, turning the chair into your weapon, killing me, you escape, run off, and proceed to attend your best friend's wedding..." then a long and hearty laugh walking around giving a nice and marvelous informative monologue. "I attended, out of sight, in disguise, this man called Dennis Gogolack was quite worried about you..."

"Do you get a plan, Shawn?" Gogolack had a hand on the side of the psychic's shoulder. "Slobbins could just pick you off in the middle of the wedding from a sniper's nest!" Concern that didn't fit his normally handsome and carefree face. "Out in the open!"

Shawn laughed in amusement turning back in the direction of his best friend who waited for his groomsman to arrive then faced his childhood friend.

"He was just after Lassie," Shawn reassured, smiling. "who's very dead, alongside his wife and daughter, and not being tormented, it's not my problem."

"Shawn, this guy killed someone who thought that he was you." Gogolack reminded, panicked. "You hid from him for THREE YEARS!"

A smile was seen from ear to ear shaking his head facing the tall and attractive concerned man. 

"It's over, Dennis." Shawn rested a hand on Gogolack's shoulder. 

"They were tracking him down when you showed up and the case stalled from there! Shawn, this is so dangerous! None of your cop friends are here! I mean, is there any under cover just waiting to arrest the guy or slay him aft the first gun shot?"

"We're not affiliated with the police department that way." Shawn rested his other hand on the man's chest. "Relax," inhaling. "take a deep breath in," then exhaling. "and really relax, we're good."

"And this man..."

Wolf lowered his head proceeding to laugh rubbing his chin.

"You are.. one .. sick... son of a bitch." Lassiter could see exactly where this was going.

"I had to stick around and see it," Coming to a pause in front of O'Hara.  "out of burning curiosity, this Slobbins fellow appeared in the middle of it and you stepped in the way and ruined an entire wedding. White suit perfectly ruined by bloodshed." Turning his attention back up toward the fake psychic from above. "Dying in his arms."

Shawn became quiet hanging his head down there from above. 

"Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Pretty sure that he understands it really well." O'Hara's voice was sharp. 

There was dead silence from the ear bud that only had a few sniffles. 

"It's not going to end well showing up, could've got the rest of your social circle killed again," Lassiter's cold blue eyes lifted up computing it gazing back and forth between them. "you're really big chaotic mess."

Gus's eyes shot over toward Shawn who seemed to be bothered by the dressing down that was harsh and vicious and cruel.

"You don't even listen, not even when your loved ones lives are on the line, not even to someone telling you, 'i'm so good at this, stop it before I need to take drastic action.' That's what I said at the party over three years ago and you investigated it ANYWAY!"

Silence lingered at the loud bark made of outrage. 

"Noooo, this is not a general complaint," His voice became nice and soothing.

Shawn inhaled lifting his head up following his own advice with a sniffle.

"I'm just telling you," he watched the younger man look up toward him wearing hate and complete disdain. "you're better off listening to this bit of advice because waiting is generally worth the opportunity showing up and just not... well..." he lowered his gaze down sporting a grimace then looked up squinting against the spot light. "I must admit it was awfully distressing."

"Hard to believe a guy who has us tied up and threatening to kill one of us!" Lassiter roared.

"Where is your heart torturing a poor guy like that?" Shawn jumped in. 

"That is insidious!" Gus agreed 

"Yes, ghoulish!" O'Hara nodded in agreement.

"We can do without a front row seat to this sick torture." Lassiter agreed. 

"I was about to pay a visit to the wedding a second time to see it specifically up close and personal then you reappeared, nice dark suit, bloody dress shirt, bloody hands, bloody face, everywhere bloody, shoes soaked in blood, upset, distraught, and just broken. Said something; well something horrible."

"Entertain the class." Lassiter beckoned. 

"Detective, I don't believe you want that." Shawn said. 

"No, no, we deserve to hear this."  O'Hara countered. 

"That I was right about my comments about what my class of villains are good at. Preventing more lives being lost."

"Winning." Gus added shaking his head in disapproval. 

Gus exchanged a glance with the younger counterpart who motioned toward the legs of the chair then up facing the older man. 

"And then what happened?" Lassiter asked. 

O'Hara was watching them whispering-shouting then ended in a disgruntled salesman looking aside.. 

"Died right then and there to your injuries in my back yard."

Gus looked over and stared at his best friend for a long moment in a way that he hadn't.

"Stop talking about my death around Gus! He's going to change too fast!" A warning made of sincere plea and fear for the impact of the words as Gus looked up toward the upset fake psychic. "You might as well be killing him right this moment!"

"Before... You practically begged me to go back, even after I said no, told him that we had this moment and he died in the fall just yesterday." He lifted his hand up pointing to the floor beside him.

Lassiter had a loud laugh at the remark.

"Without a plan." Lassiter was skeptical.

"His idea was to take my own place, he plead, sinking, time travel, right a wrong, because what the forest made him do to get back here" He motioned toward the corner of the room then lowered his hand clasping on to the gun. "have my men up there by your side, stopping you from doing something stupid."

"LIAR!"

Wolf faced the pharmaceutical salesman aiming the gun back at his face.

"Really plead to save his life more than last time. Begged me to."

"LIAR!"

"Said you would rather watch yourself die again, "

"LIIIIIIAAAAR!"

"be carried out on a stretcher,"

"Do you not understand English? That's the biggest pack of lies I heard!"

"Carried away, with everyone in a wreck but alive."

His figure was trembling lowering his head wrecked by sobs lowering his head and screamed. 

"LIAR! LIAR! LIAR! LIAR! LIAR! LIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!"

"It's a bad call to fight a way out and leave at this point, Shawn." The man was calm against the back drop of the screaming smacking the gun against his palm.

"LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!"

"You've got a potential win on your side, don't be an idiot." Facing the psychic with a smirk.

"LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAR!"

"You know it in your large caring heart." Sadistic wearing a smile shaking his head at the distraught fake psychic throwing a fist struggling to remove his binds. "I am being kind."

Shawn laughed at the remark before leaning forward and roaring.

"What you are is not being kind!"

Behind him, Gus had taken advantage of the commotion between them then made the chair right right over and struggled his hands out of the binds that clawed at his skin leaving some insane bloody gashes. He freed himself of the restraints then ran on into the dark leaving them behind reducing the crowd down to three people fleeing. Shawn's heart was racing gambling on chances. 

"You asked me to help! Should be busy thanking me."

"For pain and suffering?"

Then there was a loud terrified shriek and his heart sunk down so low as another spotlight turned on revealing a duplicate of his captor laying there on the ground with a bullet wound to the head. The door swinging open and shutting close behind him.

"Their lack of agony."  Wolf said. 

He looked over toward the crowd as his face fell knowing how messed up the younger Shawn Spencer was going to be for the rest of his natural life after hearing this tale. Henry's training was going to be like cake compared to this existence. He was heaving in exhaustion from the back and forth. His eyes were stung as he lifted his head up bracing himself for the potential loss that he was about to inflict on them.

He could feel his heart in his throat ready to be screamed out.

"Go ahead," Shawn beckoned, exhausted. "No one can stop you killing Detective Lassiter."

The man walked on toward O'Hara then pressed the trigger, a quick shot, and instead, the scream was heavier.

Loud and enormous that made the window shatter as her figure slumped there bleeding. He couldn't even cling to hope that she could survive the bullet and hang on due to the insane accuracy of the shot.

Screaming, leaving forward, his restrains slipping, breaking them, running forward punching the air still screaming, then stopped by Dustin and Drewisy. Kicking his legs struggling to slip out of their grasp wanting to kill the man fighting against their restraint then the ear bud was tugged out of his ear and he was carried out of the room leaving enormous sound of silence there. 

"We're done here." Wolf said. 

The younger Shawn's gaze was fixated on the golden room then faced the head detective processing just how close he could have been got get to the pair. His jaw had fallen slack facing the emptyness in the room facing the woman who had left and gone. He stared as the words from the man sunk into him. Falling directly into his mind about the words of the man that were raw. He couldn't look at the picture that he had personally created unwittingly.

The door flew open this time revealing Gus and a SWAT team that burst the silence. 

Shawn was silent, awfully silent, the drive too silent, not a comment, not a remark, driving away from trying to talk him out of killing the single most good person in the world, not anything witty. It's as if all the air in his chest was taken out and all that was left was hurt at failing to stop her from being killed.

Wolf looked over largely satisfied during the long drive in the silence that lingered between them. Never mind how they were going to explain how there were was Eold Wolf's in the world that were identical, one that was alive, the other that wasn't, and everything pointed directly toward him. A man who had performed numerous crimes in the past before that fateful murder that change everything. He was quiet as if his entire life was damned straight to Hell and there was no arguments about it. 

The car came to a stop  at the house then they all emerged and it was all silent in a way that was different. 

Shawn was offered flavored water that he took down in a minute. 

Wolf walked around the car wearing a big smile then was unceremoniously punched in the face by the fake psychic. 

Wolf stumbled back, spinning, crashing, landing on his face, then got up to his feet laughing as the fake psychic stared at him long and hard free of guilt but now completely consumed in rage. 

"A fighting spirit." Wolf said. 

Shawn's arms were restrained by Dustin and Drewisy prevented him from going after Wolf.

"That, too, can be crushed, like all things ending, all fun comes to a close."

Shawn's hands were closed in a fist facing him wearing defiance and well brewed anger. 

"It is going to be so delightful taking apart bit by bit. Let's go."  Wolf walked on then the fake psychic was tugged a long through the long green front lawn willingly with the iron ball making it a long and slow walk. 

The fake psychic was blind folded heavily in the middle of the walk. Then the walk resumed listening to the sound of grass crunching beneath his shoes and twigs being stepped on. Walking slowly with the iron ball holding him back from rushing on from attempting an escape.

"Halt! SBPD!" Lassiter shouted.

"Trust me, detective.. " Wolf states, simply. "you don't want to follow us or know what this place does."

"It generated instances." Lassiter replied. "That answered enough for me."

"Don't know how it works and you would simply abuse it after a time if bother explaining how it works. Might get lost and never come back to the untrained mind failing to removed what home is."

The safety was put on then the gun was lowered.

"Enjoy Santa Barbara without him. He leaves the day after making a video and sending it to the mayor about how easily fooled everyone was..."

He heard the sound of running

"As said before, lies." Shawn replied, bitterly. "And more lies."

"Not so much lies, did you think coming here wasn't done without wet dress rehearsals?"

"First of all, how dare you. Second, how dare you. Third. Stop toying with our lives "

"Oh and look who is coming."

Shawn turned at the sound of footsteps and a familiar scent. The sound of panting belonging to a woman. Shawn shoved him aside without aware of his surroundings stepping forward.

"Jules, don't. It won't fix everything."

"He.. he..he killed EVERYONE."

Shawn walked forward searching his hands out in the dark unable to see her heartbreak and anger and tears yet at the same time he could perfectly imagine. 

"He will just respawn." Shawn was resigned.

"You.. you.." the gun was gently lowered. "You are the one who got him so mad!'

"Jules..."

"This is all your fault!" Her hands smacking his chest as she dropped the gun. "They are dead because of you!" Anger and disappointment. "You!! A psychic!"

"Jules.." resting his hands on her shoulders that were so there.

"How could you not seen this coming?' her voice turned high pitch and broken.

He caught her into his arms as she sobbed.

"Why couldn't it have been you?" He could hear her fists stroking his chest with her voice. "Just you? Why did you have to leave Gus in that position! Just throw yourself in the way of the bullet!"

"Uh oh." Wolf remarked. "

"Shut up, wood!"

"It's wolf." Wolf remarked.

"Shut up, Mr Wood"

"...She is not from our side of the multiverse." Wolf remarked .

Shawn backed out of the hug after a few moments feeling raw and his heart aching.

"No shit, Sherlock." Shawn replied. "Jules, go home. Think of home."

"I can't.. I can't... I can't!" O'Hara wailed.

Shawn shot a glare back at them.

"In my defense I didn't expect.." Wolf was silenced by the glare. "Fine.... Since you are making it non negotiable, we'll leave her outside."

He listened to her wailing and let her weep...well, he was going to mess up Shawn even further. Bringing her back and leaving chaos behind for her to reclaim her life.

And this.. woman was so broken. Shattered unimaginably.

"Starting to think no gun was involved over there." Dustin remarked.

"Not that sadistic!" Wolf protested 

"Never said you were, bossy guy." Dustin replied 

Finding himself thankful it was him that survived. Weird.

After a time he was up to his feet along with her holding her hands. 

Then there was a loud thud and her hands wasn't in his larger hands.

"She will never remember this forest." Wolf sounded so certain.

Shawn was tied outside in a wooden chair that night facing the woods.

Flood lights lowered up revealing Henry with hair.

A gun was in the hands of Wolf as he paced around the man slowly coming to. Shawn started struggling out of his minds seeing the look of intent. The fear his father's eyes while resting on the back patio made of wooden planks and steps leading up toward it.

"No!"

Shawn shrieked into the night that was muffled by the right rag.

"Noooooo!"

Screaming for a future built off his back. 

"Nnnoooooooooooo!"

Wolf turned and faced the man for a moment then shifted toward Henry.

"I have a daughter,  she is 3." 

"What is her name?"

"Shaun."

"Well .... Well .. well .." he faced Shawn who was still screaming. 

A Henry Spencer who's son was trans in the future. That made it worse. So, so much worse losing a supporter in his corner even after his training. Someone who gave him his new name when he was four and made sure Shaun had never really existed from there in a legal sense. 

Henry looked up toward him swallowing hard over muffled screaming from afar and all his observation prowess could not help him.

"How can she hatch from her egg when her dad is in no position to make her into a detective?"

Henry was silenced by the threat then looked over toward Shawn's direction.

"That man screaming?" He pointed off toward Shawn. "is such a persistent little detective who gets everyone killed after getting the wrong guilty man arrested... But I can go in and kill her and prevent that from happening."

Henry's eyes flipped open.

"She hasn't hatched out of her egg yet, she needs me! More than ever!"

"Then convince me that you will make sure she never ever wants to become a detective."

Shawn started having a bellyful of laughter throwing his head back so tickled at the remark that drew the attention of the two men. Wheezing and cackling. It became bitter laughter after a time carrying the air of amusement.

Henry turned his attention back toward the man as a certain wave of assurance that his child was going to be fine crossed his mind. 

"He might change his mind." Henry replied.

The gun was raised aiming for a moment at his chest then Henry's head fell in a moment after a few pops and Shawn screamed.

The flood lights turned off and all Shawn could see was misery, darkness, and shawn. There was a few more pops for extra measure over Shawn's wailing for a future taken away from Henry. He robbed a version of his dad of a future. Erasing it all. Who was going to raise him. His mother unable to be consoled. 

Uncle Jack and he was always going to think of himself as a failure trying to raise his brother's daughter (or son) as his own. Trying to raise them right  the best way he knew. 

He rocked himself back and forth in a moment of heartache screaming in anger and disgust. Soaked in sorrow for the loss. Howling in pain for Jack, his mom, himself, and Vick.

The flood lights came back once Shawn had long after finished wailing.

Two bickering figures were seated side by side in front of the forest seated on chairs.  One on a suit and the other had long hair dangling by his eyes like a good 90s haircut. 

"My fault?" 

"Iif you weren't hard on me going into a academy then we wouldn't be in this position.".

"What part of stealing a car and being abducted on the way to the station is my fault?"

"Everything is!'

"I really hate this rebellious phase."

*This isn't rebellion, this is full on hate!"

Wolf got in the way of the fake psychic facing him for a moment blocking him of the view. 

"Ready for round two?"

"What is round three?"

His lips lifted at the question.

"Eight years old. Seeing what your dad would do to make sure you got out of there making you get so lost that you never come back home."

"No, no, you can't do that to him!"

"He'll find his way back eventually.. give or take two hundred years."

"More like a week!'

"So much confidence that can be broken... Why, my, that is fun, too fun, too bad I have a limit."

"What are you going to do after? Kill me and Gus on our... our wedding day?"

"Nope.".

"What then?"

"Nothing multiverse related, just run a business, go shopping, get mean guard dogs." Was the reply as across from the thicket virtually unseen was four figures, all youthful, gazing on, decade younger, then stepping back, in disgust. "I have had my fun after these rounds."

Shawn was quiet watching him turn away.

"I need a tape.."

"Of what?"

"The wedding. In exchange you make me widow then you won't kill dad."

"Was thinking of you..."

"Oh no, no, no? No? Not even an acceptable round."

"This time it's your dad." Wolf finished .

Wolf turned away then started to leave.

"I promise we are more entertaining than those two! Ruining our happiness! All you get is something ghastly! Please, listen to me!"

Shawn turned his attention away then back.

 "My mom left him and I think he left us." His words stopped Wolf in his tracks. "Please don't do that to my mom... She will slap me with the comments I will be making."

Shawn closed his jaw then reopened it.

"just kill me.. just kill me. "

Pleading.

"He's a flawed guy and a terrible dad. But a good man."

"Both cannot be true."

"Just kill me, just not him. He doesn't deserve a deceived teen who loves his mom."

He turned in the direction of the fake psychic thinking it over for a moment.

Henry picked up on every word while his son didn't so heavily annoyed and cranky. Henry looked over toward his son then faced the familiar face that had aged and wore suffering like a well cared for sock. Broken, indisputable.

He watched the man approach him and his teenage son who's life was about to change forever.

"Don't you dare shoot him!" Henry barked. "Don't you dare!"

The teenage looked back and forth gaping in a moment of shock.

"Uh, did I miss a scene or something?"

"Are you sure you want to leave your son on this note so abruptly?"

There was screaming from afar protesting against the discussion

"This isn't up for discussion."

"Dude, we can work things out. I am never going to be a cop"

"But you will make a fantastic fake psychic."

"Ew no! That is still a cop!"

"With your best friend."

"Uh huh, no reading comprehension here anywhere in that skulll. Not even a braincell." Henry found a reason to smile at the roast.

"And if this stings you so badly from doing that..." Wolf looked back and forth between them beneath the floodlights. "Well." Standing up lifting the gun. "I don't really have any choice."

"Shawn, I love you."

Shawn screamed at the sound of multiple gunshots from afar watching his counterpart's face be covered in blood so suddenly.

His counterpart was in a state of shock and alarm gazing back and forth at the blood caked head that once belonged to his father. Golden grating curls decorated in his own blood. His mouth falling in shock.

"Put them back where you found them." Was the order.

Shawn was still screaming from afar.

His younger self was still shocked when the floodlights came off.

He screamed harder for the third round seeing his father treat the incident like it was the last lessons he would ever give him. Dragged off the patio and at the table with a view of the back yard.. Wolf eating dinner for a few minutes before his attention returned to the duo who somehow escaped his binds.

A great struggle between Wolf and a younger Henry acting as a means of a distraction so his son runs into the forest. The gun firing into his chest then sinking down and there was no scream then just a long distant stare upon seeing Henry's heroics. 

Wolf returned to the dining room.

"Before went on and killed him, three years ago. I told him what I had in mind."

"What did he say?" Shawn asked 

"Nothing sappy. Just that.. your fiance will never let me get away with it."

Shawn quirked a small fond bitter and sad smile In response to the statement.

"And don't think I haven't forgotten the wedding," lifting a glass up then sipping from it and lowered it down bearing a smile. "Shawn Spencer..  you can attend the event personally wearing a mask and eye lens."

Shawn's face fell at the mention of the wedding as regret fell into his mind

"And ankle monitor." He looked down toward the ankle that had a cuff embedded into the bone.

"You can remove it?" Shawn looked up 

"No, just modify it. The cuff is very hard to remove without major surgery. Not like removing those bullets three years ago."

 Shawn pouted heavily with a heavy chest that lingered of watching a son lose his father thrice

"Why don't you eat up! It's fine steak and meat and salad."

"Not...." He slid the plate forward. "Not hungry."

"Always later in the fridge then." Wolf remarked.

He had tunnel vision so bad he paid very little attention to the men eating at the table being noisy and loud. Funny eccentric bunch acting like a dysfunctional family that was quite big. Surprisingly wholesome.

And he hated Wolf so much for taking his family away.

There was nothing he could do to bring them back, over his relieved grin, happily, safe, and relaxed, into his life without the grim reaper behind him.

Chapter Text

Wolf stared at the precipice of a a rather short journey smoking a cigar. One of those really good ones. He dropped it into the trash then dusted his hands proceeding to walk toward the forest wearing a smirk. Confident walking on into the forest thinking of the world that had been spoken of by that one junior detective.

The world where one Mr Wood existed rather than Mr Wolf. Identical if it weren't for the very small differences between them when it came to the very small detail across the multiverse. On the very other end of it. He didn't need security detail to visit himself.

He took one last once over of himself. Turtle neck with rolled up sleeves, a vest that had a golden chain, turtle neck roller down. Dark blue jeans that were nice and tight for the casual venture that meant no suit. It wasn't a jacket and short sleeved shirt event either.

He parted out of the forest observing the house from the front rather than the back.

"Huh."

It lacked the spaniard roof and the white theme to it but instead a enormous mansion.  Made of brick. Dark roof. Multiple windows. Obvious curtains.

A long and nice road devoted to it leading down the hill to the suburbs in contrast. A gate from below blocking off  newcomers that was still well maintained. Reminded him of his house in Santa Barbara.

"Very, very different."

He walked across the road then up the drive way taking in the forest still hanging in background. He observed familiar faces parked around the house wearing shades and wearing ear buds in their ears. Security detail still needed.

He lifted his hand up then knocked on the door and waited there.

A older Hispanic man (who's mustache was in the process of graying) opened the door.

"Wood residence." The man stared back at him, eyebrows lifting ".. Mr Wood?"

The man older looked floored.

"Gosez?" He heard his own voice echo from a distance.  "Who is it?"

"Eold Wolf," Wolf began to explain wiggling his fingers wearing a smile. "Long lost twin brother."

Gosez paused then closed the door. 

Wold stood there for a long moment thinking it over. A good impression was always the right one to behold for the general acquaintance. He folded his arms looking on then back facing the door observed by four fingers within the forest wearing death glares in the same intensity. Stares of equal amount of vengeance.

There was a click that summoned a smile from the man and his eyes lit up.

"Oh my god, it's meeeee!" Wood exclaimed.

The two men shook each others hand.

"Eold fillipine Wolf."

"Edgar Philip Wood."

"What a normal name for a ordinary man."

"Not so ordinary between the two of us." Wood beckoned over toward the forest. "It.." he stepped aside motioning Wolf inside the mansion. "come inside!"

"My stay isn't intending to be long." Wolf protested. 

Wood yanked him in shining a great smile and closed the door behind him.

"We are having excellent cuisine, turkey, and macaroni for lunch."

'is it thanksgiving?"

"Santa Barbara's finest rated chief got his hands on the turkey."

"Oooh, soo you do have him!"

"He doesn't live here per say," Wolf was shaking his head gaping. "not like the beginning, avoiding press, nice apartment studio,"

"it really bothered you whether you thought about him cooking and sharing it."

"Appalling, isn't it? Six months and he just waltzed--"

"I went to the wrong exit."

Wolf walked on past him, opening the door then Wood slammed the door close.

"You haven't let him out the house." Wood stated in awe.

"And you have tortured him emotionally," Wolf pointed out quite sharply. "have you?"

He was quiet for a long time.

"Got something better to bother him with."

"Shawn Spencer."

"Who lost his Burton Guster."

"The other Shawn.."

"Did he lead him to his death and you are holding that over his head just to stab him in the back and twist it torturing him with the details behind his death."

"Generally, he doesn't know Gus is out there and alive living his best life." Wood replied.

"He has issues about it." Wolf argued. "He knows."

"It is impossible!" Wood argued back.

Gosez opened the door for Wolf then stepped aside

"If he lost his Burton Guster then why would he want to run into his orbit and ruin that good thing?" Wolf asked 

Wood was rendered speechless by the reply then proceeded to smile from ear to ear. Starting to shake his head.

"He doesn't know." Wood affirmed.

"No one can be sure of that." Wolf reminded.

"He did nothing as my men dragged Shawn out of the room and I killed him."

"He was tied to the chair." Wolf insisted

Wood bore a big grin.

"He wasn't." Wood responded.

Wolf looked in concern as he gaped.

"What did you do to him?" Wolf asked.

"I threatened his family and didn't tell him that his best friend was going to die."

Wolf stared at the smiling counterpart for a long moment. It was diabolical. Insidious. Heartbreaking on so many levels that he experienced sympathy for the pharmaceutical salesman. Made him look good in comparison.

"What did he say as he was being dragged out?" Wold asked.

"Wasn't paying attention." Wood denied.

Wolf stepped forward looking cross and quite dark.

"WHAT... DID HE SAY?" Wolf roared.

"Gus, help me. Over and over. Then before we took him out, he said. I love you, dude." Drewisy said from afar.  "Bit of back and forth about not being scared before the last part. Promising the psychic that we were going to beat him up."

"Which they did." Wood remarked.

"Then Mr Wood finished him." Drewisy concluded. "Screamed like a little girl."

Wolf punched Wood in the gut then knocked him down with a punch. He turned away, dusting his shoulders off, exhaling, then inhaling, recomposing himself. He walked out the door slamming the door behind him.

Wolf went to another exit. 

He knocked on the door then Gosez opened the door once again. 

Gosez didn't seem all that phased as he stepped back. 

"Elijah Wood, you have another double."

That was an unfortunate connection to a famous celebrity, Wolf noted to himself, shaking his head, finding himself thankful for his face, flaws and all, not highly attractive as a movie star, nice, full of character, flaws, strong jaw line, and thin. He listened to the trail of footsteps then a man appeared with a thick set of curly red hair and brilliant bright green eyes. 

His smile faded from his face. 

"Hello, fellow torture lover!" Way too cheerfully and his voice was soft then beaming lifting his eyebrows up and down. "Like to exchange physical methods of torturing Burton Guster in the cold and dark basement with plastic covers?" 

Wolf's face completely fell quite so disturbed taking his phone out from his pocket. Insanely bothered by his counterpart. Driving him up the wall facing his well dressed counterpart looking quite kind and sweet. Missing those blue eyes.

"Oh hell no!" Taken back and insulted looking up and down. "I am ruining Frodo's good name!"

Wolf turned around and ran calling Henry's number. 

"Henry Spencer."

"My name is Elijah Wood and I have Burton Guster in my basement!"

"Lie."

"And I am his double!"

"True."

"My name is actually Eold Wolf but I am his counterpart from another reality where I am holding Shawn Spencer, bare with me, please, it's important, go through all your law enforcement contacts, Burton Guster is alive and well living a horror movie." 

Wolf paused at the steps as guns were withdrawn then faced the men that he knew resembling the entire cast from the Lord of the Rings. 

"I understand this a lot to take in, Henry Spencer." His voice carried in the air as his breath hung in the air quite apologetic.

"He's been dead for a decade." Henry made it clear how hard and enormous this stunning information was. "Mr Yin killed him." Pain and emotional lethargy rubbing his face remembering his son's pain. "He died in unimaginable agony. A part of my son died with him."

"I know."

"My son still has nightmares to this very day."

"I know."

"He wakes up screaming every often."

"I know."

"And now you want to dig that up with someone who looks like Guster..."

"No, it is him."

A long beat as it sunk into Henry's head.

"..you're... you're... you're not kidding."

Wolf's heart was in his throat staring at the numerous barrels facing him

"Tell your son that I am deeply sorry for my counterpart's actions." Wolf apologized then squeezed his eyes shut. 

Drewisy and Edfin yanked him out of the scene into the forest right as the first pops started.

Wolf dressed himself in a dark suit and a deep purple buttoned up shirt. He looked good gazing at himself. Prim and proper to make the appropriate journey and talk to the right man who was actively torturing one Burton Guster in the same means and manner. He looked down at his fist that was still bruised from the strikes.

He ventured through the forest once again facing a nice and expensive house. Nice balcony surrounded by a fence and a apparent out door pool. A nice garage. The house was nice and big.

He looked back and forth. He had to see if it before going back in.

His men at their appropriate places indicating that he was there. He approached the door then opened it and saw the first floor was wide and sprawling with an open view of the outdoor pool. Wooden staircase leading up to the second floor.

A young and attractive woman descended down the steps wearing a bikini. A lovely young face and pretty blue-green eyes. She walked toward him and clasped both sides of his face and planted a kiss on his face. His arms lifting in surprise then reciprocating. Hell yeah, he deserved this.

He backed off the kiss and faced the lovely model. 

"Hungry for more, Eold Wolf?"

She grasped a handful of his shirt.

"Depends on your name."

"Molly." She trailed her hand down the side of his face. "Remember?"

"Total blank."

"Bad divorce?"

"Hardly a bell."

"Husband helping a friend out who was denial about his business partner being turned to ash in a fire?" She looked quite concerned. "Honey.."

"Ten minutes." A promise over his snickers.

Molly looked him quite tickled by the entire world that called him her lover. Their lips met once again then she backed off as went up the stairs. Watching her figure vanish up to the second floor from below. A whole lot of legs and a equally as beautiful face/ Wolf whistled rubbing his lips then went to the basement door, grasped the handle, bracing himself, and opened it.

Wolf descended down the steps one at a time until making it to the belly of the basement facing an aroma of scents and a science fiction show playing. He came to a pause observing the younger man was now close enough in age to him. With a 25 pound iron ball attached to his ankle. His green eyes resting on the figure that was enjoying all the smells closing his eyes waving his hand in front of himself leaning forward over the pot.

He warned up the stairs then closed the door behind him and dialed a old familiar number.

"Shawn Spencer, soon to be former head psychic of the police department-- I'm in the middle of something. Look at the news. "

The fake psychic hung up then Wolf turned on the TV, lowered the volume, then put it on the news. Beside him was an aged Carlton Lassiter with a fancy beard and equally as fancy suit with a young girl who had pigtails in front of him.  He stood flanked by officers and a blonde with blue eyes keeping a brave face.

He dialed another number.

"Henry Spencer."

"This is the last hour your son will be thinking rationally." Wolf remarked.

"Hello to you, too?" Henry replied.

"Tell your son this single doesn't redeem my name.. this is all but a act of kindness in the multiverse."

"Okay, what are you smoking." Henry asked.

"I may share his voice and face... But Mr Wood has it too good." Then he lied. "And I liked it."

"What is the meaning of this call?"

'"tell him a gift from Eold Wolf. Also put on the news."

"Already watching." Henry responded on the other end. 

"Front row seat." He hung up then called the number of the fake psychic.

Watching him talk on and on and on and the phone rang in the air. Being so sincere and apologizing to his family and friends that he disappointed. He recognized the regretful and sad deep seated expression. Lingering on and on.

"I am unfortunate to reveal that I am not..." He turned around then put the call on speaker quite irritated. "Stop calling me!" 

He shoved the phone in the younger man's face.

"Get that damn thing out of my face!" Guster cried out.

Wolf turned the phone away facing the man who's attention faced him on the screen as the camera remained still. Gus's voice echoed on the screen shaking the entire air. Staring blankly. The irritation and anger had evaporated as he turned around facing the camera in surprise.  O'Hara's brave gaze faded away as Lassiter's concern melted away replaced by a cold gaze locked on the camera growing increasingly angry.

The former pharmaceutical salesman turned his attention toward Wolf wearing a hardened glare facing him that then relaxed staring at the screen and back at the man gripping the podium. The contrast between the two emotions and the men couldn't be more clear.

His brown eyes resting on the man standing alongside the television wearing glee. Bright and vibrant. Strange looking green eyes contrasting the ones made of anger. His brown eyes fixated on Shawn with a beard. Baggy eyes. His late thirties having been stripped away leaving behind a middle aged man who looked very familiar.

"Shawn? Why are you on the news?"

Wolf hung up.

"... Am not a fake psychic!" And his fist on the podium. "Rumors about my divine abilities being false are slander on my good name!" O'Hara started to smile from ear to ear that was a man coming back to life with a roar from a zombie like state. "I have caught wind of the culprit and will have a vision very shortly with the spirits willing!"

Wolf walked away as the press conference wearing a smug look at the incoming suffering headed Mr Wood's way then closed the door behind him. 

"Edgar!" Molly called out. 

"He watched his counterpart head up the stairs. 

"Coming, darling!" Wood called out. 

Wolf walked on by fast beating it out of the house closing the door behind him.

Wolf knocked again on the door, this time it was the familiar house with the red spaniard roof and the white walls. Then waited withdrawing his hand. The door opened revealing Edgar Wood, rich guy, captor, currently living unsuspected. He wore that familiar big smile and so much joy. Wood stretched his arms out and flailed them at the same time as his counterpart was who was just as happy to see him.

"Mmeeeeee!" 

Wolf and Wood shared a hug both squealing for the longest time then parted together. 

"You are looking so good." Wood acknowledged. 

"We both look good." Wolf was tickled.

"You have him." Wood was beaming looking back at Wolf. "Don't you."

"It was so easy."

"He threw himself in the way of the oncoming bullets and.. the rest has to be similar to how you abducted him from there."

"Did you just recently torment him?"

The man smiled in response to the question without directly answering it.

Wolf opened the basement door then defended down the steps into the dark basement. He flicked the lights in and off but they didn't come in. The only light pouring was from the window that made everything look so pale. There was a series of whimpers that drew his concern squinting on into the darkness.

From the corner of the room was a familiar figure in the corner that caused Wolf to kneel down. Three years older from when he had seen him. Arms wrapped around his legs. Wolf stared on down the figure recognizing injuries from being beaten relentlessly. Old scars from wounds that had since been long healed.

There was a very, long, long, long, long chain connected to a loop in the center of the room. Resting together in a nice curly similar to a snake that was all bundled up waiting to strike. The doorways to the bathroom and the bedroom were nice and dark. He looked on apologetically to the pharmaceutical salesman holding pity and sympathy.

"You.." Wolf started.

Wolf rested his hands on his knees.

"Are diabolical." Wolf turned toward his double who continued to speak. "Thank you."

"Are done." Wolf got up then faced Wood looking at him in contempt.

Wood was slack jawed facing Wolf who glared carrying the weight of a thousand suns. 

"I spent twenty years in prison because of him and his friend!" Wood shouted back.

"Were you guilty?" Wolf asked. 

"They got all my men arrested!" Wood shouted.

Wolf stepped forward gesturing toward the pharmaceutical salesman while stepping forward.

"You have gone too far!" A roar the made Wood step back.

"And you with Shawn Spencer?" Wood asked.

Wolf clenched his hand at the unfair comparison. 

"It isn't physical most of the time." Wolf answered.

The former Pharmaceutical salesman looked up at the mention of the name.

"Hypocrite!" Was the reply. 

His brown pained eyes gazing back and forth.

"There is a reason behind my actions!" Stepping forward almost breathing down his own neck. "...you. ..." His green eyes flashed open looking up and down. "You appall me."

Two identical men in front of each other that were practical echo chambers of the other. 

"You don't have to make the call." Wood reminded 

Wolf closed his eyes shaking his head humming to himself.

"I don't have much choice." Wolf replied 

"Think of the consequences."  Wood plead, clasping his hands. "Not doing it on my terms! How it will play out!" the look of disdain from his counterpart growing. "It's really going to break them all."

"I have." Wolf looked at him in great disappointment.  "You don't do this," taking another look at the pharmaceutical salesman then turned his attention back to his counterpart. "your men do the beating!"

Wolf went up the stairs then exited the building taking his phone out. He walked and walked until finding the card on a pole. Not his address. Relieving to see. Similar environment different names and all.

He took out the phone, swiped through, swiping through his contacts, then pausing, weighing, turning toward the house, then faced the card. It was time to make the call and make some things be put right. He called the number, again.

"Shawn Spencer." was the response by the psychic. "Head Psychic of the San Francisco Police Department."

"So you are not in Santa Barbara anymore." 

"I'm visiting the old department with my husband detective Carlton Lassiter."

"Welcome back, Shawn Spencer."

"Can I help you?" was the confused and genuine tone. "This is outside my working hours."

"Burton Guster is at Greater Hills and Silent Oak.." Genuine well intending tip to end a time of captivity. "the house that looks far from home the city." Was the reply. "Just thought you should know."

Wolf heard him laugh over the phone

"Little problem." The familiar heart in it pacing around. "He is dead."

"Last I saw he was alive and well." Wolf replied.

"I saw him be blown up." 

"Your mind playing tricks on you." Wolf argued. 

"My mind doesn't play tricks." was the iron cold words of the fake psychic. 

"Hang up.." Lassiter requested, stiffly. "we are waiting on a very important call."

"I am on speaker?" Wolf asked.

"This is Chief Marcus Pierce of the Santa Barbara Police Department." was the reply. "Hang up." 

"My ex-husband died a hero." 

"A hero." Wolf found himself laughing at that comment. 

"Right!" Smacking his fist on the table. "A decent one!" Angry and tired by recounting over that detail. "A real one!" He could perfectly visualize the man closing his eyes. "So.." Proceeding to waggle his head. "hang up."

"Unable to do that." Wolf replied. 

"We are following a lead finding a good detective waiting for a ransom to be called in." was the fake psychic's reply. 

"Shawn, he is very alive and he is being hurt by my double Edgar Philip Wood." Wolf put it out there so blunt and impatient. "If he dies after being beaten to a pulp this time around... It is not on my head."

He heard the scream of frustration and anger then the call was over with. 

He looked up facing a tall man with dark hair, early forties, aging incredibly well, dressed in a white suit, smiling kindly, sweetly, and affectionately, then the figure vanished, causing him to stagger back. His heart racing against his chest at the frightening moment. He turned away then made his trek back to the forest. A long and tiring journey heading up the familiar environment. He saw his counterpart at the front door flanked by Edfin and Drewisy. 

Wolf went into the forest and vanished from Wood's line of thought. 

Finally, he arrived to the right house. Right Mr Wood, even had dogs guarding the area, easily a dozen of them, working alongside the security detail keeping their eyes out for intruders. Nice and big dogs that had mean teeth. Growling even as he was welcomed warmly, allowed in to the basement, descending the long and wide stairs, turning his phone on, searching for the fake psychic's current life. He was a thing with Detective Juliet O'Hara living happily in San Francisco together, engaged, pictures on their facebook showing them on their days together as a couple.

They were happy and together enjoying the status of engaged for the last three years. (close enough, he decided, but, it wasn't exact, he had to pay a visit to the very right one) Wood went back up the stairs leaving the two behind.  He was sniffling and broken from the last round of torture.  Dressed in a nice  short sleeved shirt and looked quite muscular as he was seated there on the sectional quote vulnerable. 

Healing scars from the side of his head being hit with the bat.

"What are you staring at?" Gus looked over between sniffling. "Haven't you had enough."

Four years, being engaged, still not married, not three, this wasn't the one that he wanted to taunt. 

"So, you know he is alive here."

"I have known ever since that live..."

"You're just as brave as he is to reach someone after seeing him alive." Wolf acknowledged. 

Gus became still watching him for a long moment staring at Wolf lowering his hand and his face fell. His mind flashing back to the moment pleading to die first. And Shawn was killed after throwing himself in the way. Looming over him, looking at him, smiling, happy, hazel thrilled adventurous and kind eyes looking up, blood in his mouth, the most hideous scene that Gus hated, then fading, and relaxing in his arms with his final breath. 

"You may be the one who got him killed but..." Wolf continued that trail of thought. "You are not the one who reopened the case," a comment of ease. "The one who deserves this is suffering for all that loss of life. It's time you came to terms and left."

Gus... was furious trembling in it and clenching his teeth. 

"Have the nerve to tell me that like...." Gus had a thirty-six pound iron ball attached to his chain. 

"Do you know how little entertaining a pharmaceutical salesman is." was the reminder. "It's been 3 years and he hasn't gotten married to that lovely detective," words that made the pharmaceutical salesman pause. "Just begging to lose her and torture himself over that constantly. Do you really want to venture through the forest and not be there for someone who needs to knock some sense into that ruinous fake psychic?"

Gus was walking slowly glaring back at him.

"He's not ruinous."

"If he's not then why haven't you fought your way out?"

"He was my other half!"

"Your worse half!"

"And I killed him dragging him to that party!"

"did you reopen it."

"No."

"Then man up and get over it." Wolf walked away then began to walk on as he had a general sense of the conversation to have with the correct version. "You're hardly a man."

"I'm every bit a man than you are, dirt bag!"

"Only a man would fight against odds with everything that he has to attempt an escape. And he hasn't done any of that." was the way it was put.  "all he has done is stolen a phone and placed a call... You called him, right?"

"I had."

"You just found out the Guster of this world is dead,"

"Awhile ago."

'I revealed I knew it all along,"

"Is your name..."

"It's Eold Wolf." then he resumed. "over your glaring," Stretching his arms out as he walked away beginning to laugh. "arms stretched out singing descending the stairs," then clasped his arms around his sides. "then proceeded to tug you across the multiverse, watching everyone die, over and over, and over."

Gus wasn't sniffling staring there quite emotional and heartbroken. 

"We are done." Gus stated. "That's what..." his voice started to crack. "you said."

Gus rubbed his face looking down with a sob then clenched his hand pressing it against his lips having a very emotional inhale. 

"And don't bother seeking me out," Wolf ascended up the stairs then gazed down toward him. "It hasn't been three years to us since your death," then he wore a wicked and defining villainous smile. "You'll only get lost."

Gus swallowed hard, angry, tense, boiling, threatening to explode

"And don't you think a Shawn Spencer in this world without a Gus needs one?" 

The anger remained there in the air at the reminder and being tempted and taunted. 

"Wouldn't it be a shame if anything befell to him searching for you? Because, you know, that call, he will be seeking you out, he's got help, that private investigator mentioned on the news by Chief Trout and found that corpse."

Gus was shaking his head in a moment of anger.

"That poor young man doing a case without his best friend instead of calling him because they're moving into his dad's place and you were going to fill him in after the fact... too late, bad timing, bad circumstance, everything bad about it."

Gus was dragging the iron ball behind him.

"Screaming and running and being brave at the end... So twisted and wrong." Shaking his head clicking his tongue looking down upon him. "Should've been him," then he smiled as he remembered. "but it was..."

Finding a moment to laugh leaning back at the slow man. 

"Where are you going with this." Gus prodded.

"the right man there." Angry tears appeared lowering his head ever so slightly looking up. Squeezing his hands just imagining never knowing and, he knew perfectly the guilt was on his head. "How much it makes you and everyone else?"

"Try and convey the idea." Gus requested. 

"Badly." Wolf replied. 

Gus was shaking his head, swallowing, the whole idea, sinking in, his entire being hated it.

"I knew it." Gus answered. 

"And you're so deeply absolutely ruined than before."

Gus's cold glare became harsher, meaner, disgruntled, and outraged. He wore intent and murder in his eyes. He was moving fast with the weight behind him as Wolf ran up the stairs and landed to the top. Drewisy closed the door behind him.

"I WAS NEVER RUINED!" Hitting his fists against the door in rapid succession and anger. "I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE PLANNING TO DO TO HIM!" Furious and appalled at his dastardly plans. "AND I DON'T LIKE IT!"

He heard that a second time around almost fifteen minutes later and it was even more delicious the second time around. 

Chapter Text

:: pontiac firebird 1991 is wanted in pursuit of a missing persons. Shawn Spencer::

Lassiter moved the radio off its handle.

:: repeat that .over.::

:: Pontiac firebird 1991 is warranted in pursuit of a missing persons. Shawn Spencer::

They got him. 

Music to his ears. Sweet delightful syllables that were glorious words, heavenly, incredible, awesome ones, that started followed by a appropriate song for the moment playing in the background.

:: on it. over and out::

For the first time in over 2 years the nightmare of knowing and not being able to speak was over. Being freely able to discuss the situation without going into witness protection despite having the involvement of the FBI would take him in to custody after the capture of the scumbag. 

Above all getting cuffs on his wrist where's the most ideal situation that could ever be baked by the halls of justice by its cooks of lawyers and officers that providing for when it came to the subject matter of getting justice. 

His grip on the steering wheel it was hard and nice not slippery. Division blood if for a moment at the prospect the possibility of seeing him being taken into the cruiser of a fellow officer.

Tears are starting to fall that would not have fallen many years ago at the thought of seeing someone else doing the arrest. Using his wrist to wipe off the rest of the tears as he drove around the city looking for that specific model keeping his eye out. Just being there by a informative civilian was enough for him. The conclusion of a horrible nightmare that had no reason to be allowed.

He gazed over until on the phone checking for the various models on the internet of the firebird Pontiac. The single most delightful scene that he cast his cold blue eyes on.

Driving through the streets of the city that he normally patrolled and coming to a sudden stop at a stoplight. He looked over taking a good look at the people who was driving on the same road as he were. To his surprise, his eyes landed Pontiac that was red and had a very familiar face on him. He turned his attention away then back as it registered on his mind.

A moment of brief shock and complete alarm crossed his mind.

Lassiter withdrew the radio. 

::dispatch, I am in the vicinity of the suspect known as Rudolph Curity. We are at a stoplight as of this moment. Can you provide advisement before moving on when the lights turn green. Over.::

Lassiter turned the radio off. He looked aside facing the direction of the killer who snatched a man off the land under the living.

There was a brief pause in the air.

:: advisement is to follow the suspect. do not engage.  Over ::

:: understood. Over.::

;: makes it easier for everyone to swarm him. On our way. Out.::

He looked up playing the video back on to the handle. 

Lassiter exhaled a breath that was deep. 

Breath that he didn't realize he had been holding for the last 2 years. He felt nice and light. But still he was tense. So tense fixating his gaze on the red Pontiac firebird that was right beside him. Just daunting to stare at it the things responsible for suffering and grief. A car that he has known to appear: he should have had an eye out for long ago. 

He had seen this car hundreds of times and his career in the last 2 years. The very thing that was bothersome with knowing it. If he had only known now then he would've stopped him and brought him into questioning under the means that were sketchy and out of the box. First by taking his keys out of the car and smiling and asking him to get out of the car. He can feel himself fuming in rage building up within him and steaming it out of his ears and his nostrils.

Lassiter remembered running away after the gunshots are fired unable to begin the man for murder. Well whatever crimes he had done he was going to bring them in for that if that was possible on the agenda. Only if things escalated from there in a classic police chase that appeared on the news on the Spike channel or the cop channel. Was there even a cop channel? Because he felt like there was one. There was investigation discovery and the rumblings of a new  network called The Justice Network. (Or the Justice channel)

He would love for this criminal to appear on the world's dumbest criminals TV show didn't know if it was still around though. It was perfect way to book it into his brilliant career. Found by a civilian who recognize his face and see him getting into that car and dropping off all busted and rusted.

He drove after the net the car after the green light appeared away from the city over to the field of trees. He remembered passing by these long time ago back when he was still a detective when he was on cases that involved the fake psychic. Warm memories now in hindsight. National recognize the crime scene that they passed by was the very same one where they dug up all the bodies. 

His eyes passed open as it dawned on him that he visited the crime scene over and over knowing that the psychic was buried there. Change took over him for the first time in over three years the big number three years. Giant years. Two enormous Spencer less years. Alive that should still be here or being held captive by the criminal mastermind behind this suffering that was unnecessary. What was the end game keeping his remains away? Sick entertainment.

 The sound of sirens coming from behind him then he looked over towards the mirror beside him and saw that he wasn't alone. He had someone on his back this time facing the man responsible. Pontiac firebird was just waiting to be stopped with the squeaks and it swerve in the way that was well timed. A series  of moves that could stop the chase right in his tracks right across from Shawn's resting place for 3 years in a unmarked grave.

The grave being on unmarked made it worse.

He looked over spotting a big ass cloud of police cruisers behind him. No real cloud but the point was still there. 

It was time to make the move leading the charge. Shawn would be among them in a car while it was Gus and there was some chaos that was both amusing it really funny before delivering his psychic reading of what had happened. He was a incredible private detective that was stunning, a dream, a wish, of what what's so be happening but it was not. The man's actions of cruelty struck a chord in his heart.

Just keep reminding himself what would Shawn do during the chase and it made his righteous rage build up even further but justified to be used in a lawfully abiding manner.

He speeded up ahead that's when he swerved in the way and stopped the car. 

Lassiter put on his shades very fast.

He was out holding out his gun making the car come to a complete stop and it's tracks.

The single most dangerous and most risky moves that he pulled ever pulled off and his entire career. Shawn would be comments about how hot that he was being right now and Gus would be back and forth with a shake shake of his head at the strange way things had ended similar to an action movie. And O'Hara would be arresting his ass as he wore shades wearing a smirk.

Series of police cruises joined him right beside him from behind and assembling there was a complete blockade preventing escape that was came drawn up of police officers. A complete barrier made of the blue rolling stone cold faces that are serious and deeply cross. There was even a police helicopter from above that had shown up out of the tree line the blades rolling in the air. The familiar thumping the blades.

Thi... This... This is what it felt like to get justice.

The vehicle door opened and how can that familiar face staring at him quite impressed to see him. Alive.

Even being back on duty was a giant strange thing to see.

"You got shot and you're still running around!"

Lassiter's blue eyes just staring at him with no response through the shades blocking the view of his tears. Only thing that Curity were seeing was that deep placed frown 

He wasn't going to dignify that with any response. 

He would rather be dancing on the moon then be talking to the murderer who took away a close friend.

He stood there with a distinctive tremble gazing toward the man in a very emotional state of being. The most scary moment that he could have a muster being inside because all it would take would be him getting back into the car and driving through the barricade and damaging police cruises and also to run him over adding more to his tally. He kept his grip on the gun aimed at the driver. 

The police officer joined the side of the car then took out some cuffs and delivered the Miranda Rights.

Finally..

After all this time...

The nightmare was over. 

Lassiter just stood up and put away the gun and lean against the car using using it as his support as if all the strength that kept him up there had depleted. Very significantly. He looks back up toward the sun that shined brightly and his life. Brightly and stinging and lovely. A far beautiful day occurred to him as he rested his hands on his knees. The man who had modeled grave events in the beat cop's life had been stopped from modeling even more by one single act of brazen cruelty. An act that resulted in the chain of revenge being complete. 

This part of the nightmare was over but it was still very much ongoing with a bunch of men who had a complete mission to take him off the picture or they could be off of Mexico. Enjoying some well deserved freedom after having escaped the clutches of the justice system. The people that the man that hired were still out there. Some bitterness that was handed out in the world of justice that was being made right. He settled for this it was better to his attackers evading justice. Really the only thing that was helping him cope.

He lowered his gaze down towards the pavement letting go a big breath of relief and closed his eyes so tighter than before lifting his gaze out toward the sun listening to the beat of the helicopter from above his head. He rested his hands on the side of his utility belt and all was well.

Another exhale had and he gazed off towards the shoulder of the road.

He saw what he really hadn't really seen this time grieving these last three years.

The familiar man gazing on squinting slightly tilting his head taking it all and having a small little laugh to himself then turning away where he went on just vanishing.

The beat cop took out his phone then dialed the number. 

He pressed the phone against his ear.

"Henry Spencer."

Lassiter removed the shades, smiling.

"We got the man in custody. For now."

Chapter Text

He came back to it in another chair that morning by Dustin and Drewisy. Nice and dark with  sunlight pouring into the room from various windows. The same scene from earlier was set up. What was different was seeing how they were all a bit well several years older. He looking nice the sign of familiar age. The jacket that he wore alongside Gus at the same time when they had caught the yin yang killer. 

He was taking his head between to himself, "no no no no."

Security stop for the room from above that was a bit bigger than the one that the fake psychic cabinet earlier. Nice and wide not small square. It once used to be a night club at one point. Not a lot of signs were there that used to be that way look. The equipment was taken away leaving only hidden power outlets in the dark.

Wolf looked up facing the direction of the hidden fake psychic wearing a smile. 

That is all that he was wearing lately on his face; a smile. Enjoying it for every minute that was progressing.

"The Santa Barbara Police department is looking for us and the full might is going to every single case file that we've. We got men leaving no stone unturned. A part of the case that we're on part of..."

"That's where the error is."

Shawn watched his gaze drift  back and forth between him and O'Hara. 

"Your fake psychic here."

"Here we go another skeptic going nuts!" Gus complained.

"Is going to be investigating a case  in.."  he cast a grimaced side as he walked around and giving it some thought. "2 years."

His counterpart fixated his attention on to the man. 

"Premeditating a murder and decided to get rid of key components who could solve it fast. .."  The head detective lowered his head for a moment for starting to laugh then get used to back up. "don't know whether to disturbs or impressed with this level of villainy."

"You've already decided who was going to die." Shawn replied. "Just get over with!"

"It's true, I have decided who's going to die."

He held up the gun pacing around the stiffened and intense crowd.

"Someone valued." Weaving around the individual members of the crowd. "Lots of love. Lot of care. Lot of connections in the police department and matters very dearly to the city."

"Come on give us a monologue!" Gus started.

"We deserve that!" Shawn agreed.

"Sorry, men." Clicking his tongue facing the men who stared shedding a small shrug quite apologetically "All monologued out."

Shawn had a heavy sigh shaking his head in frustration then lowered his attention.

"Just kill o'Hara and get it over with." Shawn spat back. Annoyed.

"Not." Wolf replied.

"Sicko!" Shawn shouted 

"We are owed!" Gus protested.

"Making us die without context behind your murder victim. You know you want to give a nice big fat long speech! The spirits even say so."

"So persistent." 

"You are obviously going to kill us all." Shawn reminded.

"Good idea," Wolf hummed.

Gus's face fall in remark to the comment then shot a glare over becoming panicked.

"Shawn!" Gus exclaimed.

"Well partially a good one." He looked over towards the window. "killing three ..."

Shawn's younger face fell a moment after at the drop of the words and a unsettling bad feeling sinking in.

"We go together or not at all." Gus argued.

"Or just two detectives." Wolf ventured around the room.

"Shawn, stop giving that fucker more ideas!" Shawn shouted.

Wolf looked up toward the window wearing a smirk.

"I was going to wait but.. this was your idea." Wolf paced around in a moment of laughter that was pure and sinister. "All of it."

"Shawn, Shawn!" Gus beckoned his attention toward him.

"It is even more delicious than I expected!" Wolf paced around in a moment of laughter that was pure and sinister.

"Don't listen to him." Gus instructed then looked over toward the man. "Don't shoot him, please shoot me first."

Shawn lowered his head wrecked by small sobs for the young man who neatly set up a self inflicted daily Hell. 

"Hmmm..".was how he started going behind the young detective.. "should do the original plan next time."

The gun was fired and then fired again behind the glaring detective, over the screaming of the older fake psychic struggling in his binds breaking free charging forward screaming one word over and over and over. 

Then the fake psychic was next and the bloodshed stopped from there. So sudden. 

Gus was so upset in the chair, broken, teary eyes, then Wolf turned the light on and the salesman looked up facing Shawn who was being held back wearing a death glare. All the emotional pain that he normally wore was depleted leaving only strictly intent that was normally written in crime thrillers and horrors by slashers alike. Like a dead weight, once the grip had loosened on his arms, the fake psychic fell down to his knees sinking there.

"See what I mean, Spencer!" Wolf turned in the direction of the furious man. "You really are the angel of death."

"YOU ARE ONE SICK MAN!" Gus screamed.

"More like brilliant."  Wolf remarked 

Gus's attention swayed over toward the older man from across who didn't seem as young as the Shawn that had been lost. 

"You are not the angel of Death! You are not! You are not the angel of death!" Looking up between tears and sobs as the man was dragged away. "Shawn! Did you hear me? You are not!" Raising his voice so he could be heard. "I don't blame you!"

His head was left hanging after they got into the limo it's better off in the crime scene that had been born. His face is staying in the tears that were fresh and stung his face like they were acid. Made of acid.

His heart rate was high in beating loudly against his ribs wearing the 10-ton pain of destroying several lives knowing Wolf would have led so unified death casualty leaving only behind one survivor to tell.

There was another cup parked in a cup holder.

A nice big blizzard with the culvers logo that had chocolate chunk in it.

He lifted it up then moved the lid inspecting it. 

"Thought you were done tormenting me." Shawn finally said.

A little laugh came from Mr Wolf. 

"You are so entertaining, Shawn Spencer. Can't get enough out of you."

"Dad was right."

"He is wrong. No one knows of your whereabouts."

Shawn leaned forward, darkly, smiling, pleased

"Carlton is never going to let you get  away with this for too long." Shawn snatched the smoothie out of the cup holder. "Going to slip and the fall will be hard."

A long pause thundered between them.

"And i will still be standing." Shawn replied.

"In which order? After your loved ones die again until upset circumstances that could be avoided completely. Check the odds, it's not great."

"Why are you checking me off if you think you're not going down?" Shawn was heavily perplexed squinting back at the older man leaning forward quite irked by the strange comment.

"I prefer to lose gracefully." Wolf answered.

Shawn leaned back with a hollowed out laugh then looked back toward him leaning against the door.

"One of us didn't lose gracefully." Shawn replied.

"Going down strikingly anything similar to your downfall." Wolf admitted.

"Buddy.. either going to be taken down by fire.. a earthquake that makes this building collapse taking me with it.. or one of my favorite detectives breaking out of binds and shooting you down."

Mr Wolf could feel a bead of sweat dripping down his skin.

"And leaving me up there with your men watching you be carried away on a gurney unseen and then, what are we going to do?" Shawn grinned looking aside then back, cheerful. "I'm going home."

"Just one problem with that."

"The Robbins guy, I know."

"There is like three men out there still hired to take out your entire social group. I have no reason to go out to them but maybe you should wait a bit longer before considering that like it's appearing on the news of leaving captured or arrested or killed on the scene."

"Being dead is really not any reason to wait anymore."

Wolf sighed briefly closing his eyes then smiled, warmly.

"I did warn you." Wolf replied, resigned.

Wolf sipped from his glass.

"Don't seek me out and say I'm sorry, here's what happened and here's how you can stop it."

"Pppphhh."

"The buck stops here, Shawn. Everyone you ever loved is going to be dead!" He twirled his finger leaning forward so exasperated and angry. "I am not going to fix history again. "

Shawn glared between bites

"And then you really have to go back to the world I snatch you from the one  where they have been dead have been dead for 2 years. Yes, that one!  Try being a fake psychic remembering and knowing I'm out there but I do not want to help you anymore."

Never mind the possibility of seeking out a Gus in his position who lived a life very similar. He would never leave, let alone opt to, due to the intense guilt that weighed on him more than it did Shawn. Wolf didn't need to see it to know it.

"Killing everyone over and over is not helping me." Shawn responded.

"It is entertaining." Wolf remarked

"What part of death is entertaining?" Shawn asked irritated.

"Not the present ones.". He cleared the air. "That's just sad and mean,  have some standards."

Shawn didn't believe him when he said that he had standard. The eyes of the fake psychic indicated the man had none.

"Besides, how are you going to want a business without someone supporting you?"

Shawn was silenced by the reminder.

"You should be considering that instead of wandering off and leaving before I show up again for whatever reason, maybe to continue the fun? Like thinking for 5 minutes. Careful planning and then just moving on with your life."

"So..."

"Helpful I know."

"That happened, didn't it."

Wolf leaned back and laugh at the man's question.

"The most paranoid psychic in Santa Barbara guessing things to have happened and have not happen."

"That was a very specific situation you put out there, Mr Wolf." Drewisy reminded over the fake psychic's glare.

Shawn was eating the blizzard facing the man.

"If that had all happened then why would I have helped in the first place? After all that?" Shawn isn't have an answer. "I wish I could say you did." He took another sip of his glass then lowered it. "it didn't happen."

Shawn looked up toward the man that was sincere.

"Liiiiiiaaaaaar." Shawn accused.

"I just know you really well." Wolf persisted.

"How." Shawn said.

"I told you I have studied you." He waggled his head then looked over, cooly. "Remember?"

Shawn took a few bitter scoops of the smoothie.

"Can't know me that unwell unless we met in prison and became friends from there for years!" Shawn shouted.

Shawn stopped, staring, lowering the spoon, his hazel eyes fixated on him, his mouth hanging.

"Changed history, made you a very successful man, your dad was actually pretty proud of you, and Gus.. he's probably still a cog in the machine just as you are except so much livelier."

"Lassie.."

Wolf was shaking his head.

"Poor poor detective Lassiter." Wolf was so sarcastic.

Shawn was bordering between being tearful and mad.

"You let an innocent officer be bulldozed.."

"Very much in jail right now. Terrible setup but heard about it something about Shawn wanting to help him out of that steel cage something like that. If I were interested seeing how that turned out i would check but I'm not."

"One thing is pretty damn certain about the misery of my fiance..."

"He got caught with no one in his corner."

"No no no,  none of that."  Shawn shook his hand leaning forward.

"Don't tell me there is a silver lining to this.. " Wolf groaned cupping his forehead into his hand.

"I proved his innocence." Shawn was dead set certain. " he's doing fine, he's back at his career.. Lucinda is there and she is the first person who greeted him outside those gates... everything is the way it should be.."

"but it's not." Wolf reminded the young man.

Shawn shook his head in amusement wearing a smile and emotional deep seated eyes 

"I am the eccentric rich guy who happens to be a fake psychic dragging his childhood friend along for the ride. Better late than never."

Wolf frowned deeply sipping from the glass as the fake psychic continued eating the blizzard.

"And then you disappointed your father." Wolf remarked.

"Nah." Shawn laughed, in mirth. "He is actually really proud of me."

Shawn was blindfolded, tugged through the forest again, carried away, then driven,  unmasked, and bolted in. He wasn't smiling then facing the same scene from earlier.

He watched the same scene played out, again.

Same lines except pleading for him just to kill Lassiter. 

"Just kill Lassiter!"

Being ignored was the worst thing. 

"Just kill the detective!"

The smirk that boiled his nerves.

"Nah, I'll pass up the original plan."

"I will never leave if you just kill the detective!"

He looked up facing the fake psychic wearing doubt and more doubt  facing a desperate man making a promise that couldn't be kept. He paced around them wearing a dark look.

Screaming and pleading on the behalf of the kids watching O'Hara be shot first. 

"No, no, please," Shaking his head pleading on the behalf of the young man who looked at Wolf so confused with his jaw hanging not getting any answers why he was doing this harsh act. "don't do that to him!

Except he was spared. 

He was roaring for the young man staring in shock. He was older and full of heart at the wrong that had been conducted upon an innocent life. He was left in a screaming fit lashing forward swearing a storm and inconsolable facing the shells of those he considered close to him. Lowering his head and weeping in a moment of anguish. He screamed for the man for several minutes left there. Unable to be seen or heard by the young man whose grief was shared. 

A young man who never met the murderer who was severely abusing the means. Screaming why over and over and over being targeted for no real good reason. He could still hear the screaming long after he was taken out of the dark room.

"WHY?"

Another building, another warehouse, another set of the familiar group, same clothing that gave him an awful good idea what point in time that it was still approaching the end of the yin yang killer. it wasn't going to be the same closing it after the bastard was done toying with them.

He was all petered out lowering his head resigned to the fates that awaited them. He lifted his gaze upon the scenery.

"What are you waiting for?" Shawn asked, resigned. "Get it over with."

Woof hummed pacing around the area almost in a tight spot.

"Very hard to choose who to kill this time..." 

Shawn had a inhale lifting his gaze up looking down upon them facing heartache and pain that he was putting him through. He messed with the wrong man. A terrible awful horrible man responsible for murders and he regretted every minute of it.

"I can kill the detective before he gets demoted by the new chief.."

Shawn's head hung there listening to the sound of his voice.

"Or, I can kill the woman who thinks you are a psychic, Shawn Spencer."

"But, I am!" Shawn cried out.

"He is very much a real psychic." Gus agreed, nodding.

"I could just kill your best friend.." he aimed the gun at Gus's face.

There was only sniffles that could be heard over the ear bud.

"Remove the side kick, remove the lifeline of the business, crippling you for good letting anyone into that heart and into your dirty little secret fooling a good woman." Words that hurt reminding him how she died thinking he was a psychic. "I have to say. It's the best performance I seen in ages..."

He lifted his head remembering her.

"Believing in someone who doesn't deserve it but jail time."

He opened his eyes having a difficult inhale.

"and every single case you worked on being opened and a lot more innocent people dying because actual criminals were released."

O'Hara stared at Shawn and the more she stared at him the more that she saw the mask slip and then a horrible lightbulb went off.

"You are not a psychic." O'Hara said.

"Who are you really talking to?" Lassiter roared, leaning forward shattering the moment loudly. Getting into the dead center of a relationship that was going to go into flames as her faith dissolved in the fake psychic in mere seconds."Who are you tormenting! You got an ear bud in your ear!"

He pressed a button then stepped aside.

"Shawn Spencer..." He lifted his hand up toward the golden glowing window. "Meet the broken man who lost everything and confessed just to try to save the last person that he had left in his circle."

Slowly but surely, their attention shifted up facing the older man from across who was openly crying and older wearing a dark warm partially unzipped hoody not a plaid or a jacket. He looked distraught enough to horrify the crowd. It was a lot to take in and process a nightmare that was being lived in. A nightmare they could leave. A nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

"Not your future," was the clarification that was issued. "different dimension is all." Shrugging leaning against the head detective's chair. "Infinite Shawn Spencers..." looking up wearing a wolfish smile facing him. "so much fun to have with just one dragging him through a mine field of emotions and hurting his chest sized heart."

And then Lassiter had a good picture of the very end of the fake psychic's career without Gus. Scared, alone, sad, and hurt. A horrible haunting image that would stay with all of them for a long time to come. So distraught and full of regret that was being used to toy with him like a fork playing around with soft meat taking bites out of it one piece at a time. He saw the price of a case that ended terribly.

Gus was crying in sympathy shaking his head gazing back and forth, scared, equally, scared, because a point had been made. Dying before Shawn or Shawn being abducted, it was going to be so awful on him. His best friend alive and unhappy but being hurt in the worst way possible instead of being immediately rescued by the chief.

"Detective Lassiter.. during the barrage of bullets when the department was going down, he took out this big police issued megaphone," he stretched his arms put for emphasis emphasizing the size, "joined by his friend outside the house he was staying, and said..."

He laughed loudly that echoed through the building.

"it's a kicker."

Wolf looked aside and laughed as Shawn remembered it all agonizingly.

"I'll hand myself over! just don't hurt Lassiter and O'Hara and the others."

Shawn lowered the megaphone facing the distance crowd from afar.

"You are out of your damn mind!" Gus accused.

"Spencer,  NO!" O'Hara shouted.

Shawn turned in the direction of his childhood friend, serious.

"It's either us or me."  Shawn said, bitterly. "I rather it be me."

"I rather it be us and giving a chance to be tracked down." Gus replied.

"What do you have on you, Guster?" Lassiter asked 

"A tracker." Gus held up his hand then opened it revealing the small tracker then smiled.

"Guster, is that connected to your phone?" Lassiter inquired.

"Uh huh." was the confirmation.

Lassiter took the tracker into his pocket then up 

"Guster, I appreciate it if.."

"On it."

"Shawn, baby."

Lassiter directed the younger man over to the field of cars then opened a car door and watched him crumble into the seat quite upset. He took his partner's hand and lowered his head coming to terms with being parted from him then looked up.

"I can't lose you, too!" Shawn cried out. 

His blue eyes resting on the scared figure.

"Neither can I, Shawn." Lassiter replied.

Lassiter leaned forward and planted a kiss on to him slipping a small blue ring box between them. The kiss enough to swiftly disarm the fake psychic whom clenched on to the collar of the chief's shirt so tightly. He moved fast buckling in the psychic.

"Give me my ring out when we see each other again after this." He withdrew then closed the door as Gus hopped in, buckled, started the car. "We'll see where this goes in ten minutes!"

Lassiter's eyebrows lifted.

"I wasn't interested in dealing with him.. but I considered it." Shawn was sobbing at the memory that replayed. "but I never got the chance." He approached the head detective. "Because your dear detective picked you up and put you into the car that you call a blueberry and drove away."

Shawn's eyes were squeezed shut, sobbing.

"None of you are dying today, unfortunately." He withdrew from the Detective facing the door that swung open facing the familiar bald faced well aging Henry Spencer who looked deeply cross. "He is!"

Shawn screamed so loud into the man's ear.

"Dad, run!"

"Don't worry, Shawn, SWAT is on their way." 

"We are bait for you!" Lassiter shouted off the top of his lungs. "Spencer!"

Henry stood there then saw a familiar figure in the dark screaming and begging and he looked an awful like his son.

His son was right across from him get he was above and also below. His son was looking over his shoulder facing him. Two jarring contrasts standing there. One looked older and the other looked young and not so heavily worn. The face of suffering like a missing victim being psychological tortured.

His heartbeat thumping in his ear slowly with the deep sound. Panic in the unsettling feeling of being in a horror anthology TV show episode.

He saw the smirk as the gun was aimed as he stepped aside and it followed him stuck in a face off passing by the men.

"Have we met before." Henry asked.

"Once." Was the reply. "You attended a group meeting.  A meeting about missing persons. Eventually became about them accepting their kids being gone and you stormed out telling them that is not what you are here for and that your son wasn't dead."

"He is a emotional goddamn vampire " Lassiter replied, horrified 

"Well, that man?"  he motioned his hand up. "He isn't that Henry Spencer's son." Finding reason to smile. "He died three or three so years ago during a case that involves officer Lassiter who never told a soul."

"Dad, dad, dad, he has nothing left." Shawn spoke up on the older man's behalf.  "But pain and suffering."

"Really don't recommend that.I can just get another one in the same situation after killing all you." the gun swerved toward him. "I can do that just to make it stay in continuity."

He snapped his fingers then fired the gun, thrice, aiming for Henry's chest, smirking, then lowered the gun. He  stood still until blood started staining his suit. Gravity tugged down the tamed detective landing to his side as horror seated there on their faces getting in intensity. A sad violin could've been played as the blood started to stain in a sorrowful melody that was sweet and carried all the notes of a well tinged sorrow. 

Shawn was screaming from above as his counterpart was shouting for his dad.

The lights went off from above and then he walked off into the dark.

"Dddddaaaaaaaaaadddddd!" Shawn shouted.

Shortly after Vick, SWAT, and paramedics showed up and tended to them.

Shawn ran with Gus lagging behind him.

Shawn was heaving, trying to take in deep breaths, failing, his legs failing him, thrown into another limo that drove away and the men went into another car, taking the younger version of the fake psychic and his best friend on a wild chase through the city. Shawn was heaving, hands on the floor, hyper ventilating, taking a deep breath in and out, trying to make himself relax, but it was all difficult being the reason why his father was killed once again.

It was so hard to catch his breath gazing aside then swallowing hard and the emotions kept pooling out of him as his voice was blubbering here and there. 

Trying to stop the tears made it worse, swallowing them, his heart was bleeding, being responsible for Shawn losing a trusted listening ear who was never going to become a grandfather. 

It was so hard to inhale seated there listening to the sound of the wheels roaring on the window and passing over bumps. 

His heart was wounded and in his voice as he screamed looming over the floor as it all felt awful and anger and rage and hate. 

Spilling out all his guts in a emotional sense as he fell down to his chest as intense high pitched wailing came from his chest with profound grief that had long been buried but not fully healed. A scream from the pain in the heart. He lowered his head proceeding to wail as his voice lacked sound and his eyes couldn't produce any more tears.

The same scene again, this time, it was  different, he knew it was, his face was dry as the desert seeing the familiar scene of them. Lacking the jackets which meant it was after the serial killer. Closer to the era in which his show had ended on a terribly tragic note. 

It wasn't daylight out there, all Shawn could see was the starlight and airplanes passing by, thin whisps of clouds, the lovely shades of the dark standing out against genuine darkness. Blue was a lovely color in all it's shades. 

Wolf emerged then faced the darkened window and back 

"Really easy to catch you all after the arrangement that was pulled."

"I killed you." Lassiter said.

"The entire department shot you down in a hail of bullets."

"That's just one interpretation." Wolf looked aside facing the fake psychic who was youthful and scared facing him. "I am afraid the psychic can't have this peculiar ending under these nefarious circumstance."

He shot a glance back over gently weighing eliminating O'Hara, over his small pleas in the ear bud, then Lassiter, using the long portion of the gun, the cold slick piece against their cheeks, then came to a pause, facing the fake psychic and the salesman. He looked back and forth between the two groups thinking it over. 

"Eeenie mieenie minie moe, catch the tiger by it's toe..."

They all looked in various states of disheveled which was familiar as the last day that they were together.  It was that same day. Just one version of it where none of them died. Lassiter and Shawn wore their wedding bands. It took the fake psychic way back, too way back, remembering, haunting him, seeing how scared they all were on that day as the world was ending and coming apart around them. 

Then Wolf lifted the gun and unloaded into the young fake psychic. 

There was silence from the ear bud as he turned facing O'Hara's abnormal high pitched aching screech and the head detective's scream and the wailing of the pharmaceutical salesman. 

He turned back in the direction of the window for a long moment facing the psychic who felt so full of their love seeing exactly everyone's reactions as the man walked away leaving them behind. Seeing yeah, yeah, they would rather have everything played out the way they did in exchange that he was still alive. He needed to live for them making up for three years... but how when the odds were against him?

The fake psychic was lifted up from the chair then tugged away. 

Shawn was set on the back patio with his arms tied behind his back and no rag in his mouth that afternoon. 

His father and his 90s self were seated side by side having the same argument as before and his heart ached so much as they paid little attention toward them. 

"Dad..." he started.

A word that he hadn't said in over three years. 

"dad.." 

A teenager treating his father like that didn't deserve one like Henry (sucking in that parental department or not). 

"Dad..."

His heart aching so loudly blinking facing them from afar as the argument were proceeding between the bickering pair seated by side with each other had their attention on each other and angry and bitter and sour. He looked over hearing the sound of footsteps hearing Wolf getting closer coming right out out of the building heading from down the stairs so he turned his attention back up on the duo. 

"DAD!"

A scream that caused the bickering to cease upon hearing the shout. 

"Did you shout that, Shawn?" Henry asked. 

"Why would I scream that in your face?" The teenager was fuming. "You're the worst guy to be called 'dad'."

"YOU'RE WRONG!" was the aging boom that came from his heart. "HE'S LYING TO YOU, SHAWN!" he watched the teenager turn his attention toward him and squint toward the source of the voice. "MOM LEFT HIM!"

He watched his teenager's eyebrows pop up as his jaw slightly fell.

"I'M SORRY, DAD!"

Wolf emerged with a small gun in his hand passing by the fake psychic.

"I'M SO SORRY!"

Wrecked by sobs that were hurting and gnawing at his soul lowering his head as the loud and explosive heart wounding grief resurface blinded by tears.

"I'M SO SORRY!" From the top of his heart and mind speaking regrets.

The teenager looked over as suddenly the world turned upside down gaping at Henry.

"I'M SO...."

Henry faced the red head with large curls approaching him as his son's aged figure was trembling as he lowered his head then lifted it up.

"SO. SO SORRY! ABOUT EVERYTHING! I'M.." Squeezing his eyes shaking his head unable to look at him in shame. "SORRY... I NEVER MEANT FOR THIS TO HAPPEN! I WAS WRONG ABOUT YOU! TELL GUS; I NEVER INTENDED TO MAKE EOLD WOLF THIS MAD! REMEMBER! REMEMBER!"

He lowered his head with a few cries as the man got closer. 

"I'm SO SO-so-so-sorry." 

Wolf fired into the teenager as the older man cried lowering his  torso down over Henry's screams. 

"Sweet dreams, detective." Wolf replied.

Henry wore a gaze of intent to find out what the man was into in the middle of his grief and heartache. The horrible start of a supernatural and sci-fi movie with a dysfunctional family that Henry happened to be part of. The men showed up, unbound them, their figures silent, one had a faint heart beat, the other's heart was strong, doing it so carefully wearing protective gear, and dragged them away from the scene.

Shawn was all cried out half an hour later apologizing to thin air shaking his head. 

"Do you still want to attend that wedding?" Shawn was hiccuping as he squeezed his eyes close. "Making your favorite detective a widow can wait for another world, after all, you just apologized to the dead..." He patted on the psychic's shoulder.

Shawn swallowed hard, nodding in agreement.

"No, I didn't."

"Close enough."

"That is a over a decade of life events that haven't been lived through." his voice was hoarse, bitterly, as a single tear fell, the events that were snatched from a Henry Spencer as he looked over toward Wolf. "Doesn't count."

"It does to the soul," he was knelt down by the psychic's side, gently,his voice all softened. "They never did said that you were forgiven for that stupidity... no matter." He looked back toward the forest and back rubbing his hands together. " a nice wedding, nice to uplift that soul, very flawed but deserves something nice this afternoon.."

Shawn screamed this time full of horror and emotional pain, it was nice, long sustained, consistent,  then stopped as if all the fight in him was lucked out then he lowered his head and nodded.  Starting to laugh, bitterly, sharply, and sour, agreeing with someone who was actively torturing him so hard.

"Dustin, get the modified ankle monitor set!" Wolf ordered. 

"Getting it, Bossy guy!"

Maybe he was supposed to be the one damned in the first place to a horrific end? A fire eating its way through the building that killed him fast with carbon dioxide in his sleep, being entombed in a collapsed building between debris beneath the dust, a tsunami that swept through the land, maybe, as long as the opportunity wasn't there, it was supposed to be his fate? He didn't know but his ultimate fate being unknown was terrifying to think about. He didn't honestly know what the man had in mind for his ultimate fate. 

Facing the charming and smiling older man who was treated well by time in a graceful manner who had everything while Shawn only had anxiety about his loved ones being around longer than after a red wedding. 

Shawn was virtually broken in every way that truly mattered, he didn't know truly, honestly, would they have forgiven him for going through with investigation? They tried to save him but their anger was a truly different matter.

Chapter Text

Curity was finally in the interrogation room for the first time in 2 years or if not long, much longer, he was damned to tights being on the record of confirming the murder of a man. It was quiet in the room that normally had the sounds of voices that consisted of being questioning. Denials, alibis, and lies, and falsehoods that peppered the air.

O'Hara stood there on the other side of the mirror alongside Lassiter and Trout. The stillness in the air that carried was pronounced. O'Hara removed herself from the room taking her phone out making a call to Gus about the apprehension of the criminal behind it all. The man responsible for much of the last three years and the prolonged absence of a good man that haunted the air and the lives of all those who cared.

From the other end of the call being placed by O'Hara was happy weeping. 

The man had been in the interrogation room for hours waiting for the FBI to come and collect him for the direct purpose of federal arrest. 

Lassiter's arms were folded facing the man shaking his head in disappointment.

"If he simply were a better man..." Lassiter reflected. "he might have been a brilliant consultant for the FBI."

"All the intellect put to waste." Trout agreed with a sigh that could end an entire fire. Final in the whole context of things. "Attractive, handsome, fashion model material, and good with connections being established.."

Lassiter had a sharp inhale then faced him for a moment with his arms folded.

"Chief.."

"I know what you are going to say."

"Honestly don't like you. But.. this man.. in light that all he has done, it has conceived as an idea to me and convinced me," he balanced his elbow with one hand and has one hand held out giving it a good shake. "that demoted or not, Shawn Spencer would be very dead. And deeply missing as we went for back up tugging Guster along."

Trout listened along to the situation that was brought up.

"By the time we got back he wouldn't be there anymore and it has been hard to reconcile over that." Then clasped  both sides of his arms. "Things would be very different if he called us there with the appropriate recipe to prevent disaster."

"Would have enjoyed going over kill."

"Back then,..." He looked aside remembering the old days quite warmly then back. "Absolutely."

"Has he told anyone here where the corpse is since coming into our proximity?" Trout asked.

Trout's eyes rested on the beat cop for a long moment.

"With the right interrogation tactics, he will crack like a egg."

"Do you got any?"

"Sir, with due respect.." he lowered his gaze then lifted it. "getting a man riled up to confess instead of a shooting is not in my skill set. I made, make, a excellent  interrogator,  however..  when it comes to Spencer.."

"That is a very different call to make as someone who worked alongside him for years." Trout acknowledged.

Lassiter turned in the direction of the man in the room.

"There isn't the heart to open that painful sore sensitive wound at not being able back one of our own." Lassiter went on and on. "He wasn't legally one of us but he was...he didn't bleed blue, he bleed out all that was good."

There was the sound of gunfire that drew the attention of the two men down the hallway  drawing the attention of the two men at the loud pops and the rush of footsteps. Shouting, yelling, bullet fire. Lassiter looked off facing the direction of he murderer then back toward Trout. He grabbed the door then turned the center of the knob locking it standing in the way lifting his gun up ahead.

Curity stood up from the chair then left the interrogation room

"Took you all long enough to get here!"

Curity was out of the room in a moment and Lassiter threw him and Trout out of the rang of fire before it started falling from the door. The former detective looked up on the direction of the door listening to the sound of footsteps rushing away then he was up to his feet and unlocking the door. 

The door flung open then he sped out of the room taking account of four wounds beat cops strewn about the lobby of the department.

O'Hara was at the top of the stairs with a gash on the side of her temple and her short curly hair bobbing along.

"How are you doing partner?" Lassiter asked.

She lifted her phone that had the text Shawn Spencer 3.

"Tis but a stray bullet." O'Hara replied

Lassiter made a bolt for it by opening the doors and running down the stairs. He made a sprint toward the police cruiser that awaited him with close doors then he hoped on hearing thuds around him as if officers were taken down by gravity on their way to their cars.

He turned the ignition then the next moment found himself on the road with a pounding headache and steaming uniform covered in shoot. He dusted himself over then saw the familiar psychic appear as as shadow figure that was distinctive as he noticed several cars with drivers had stopped then looked up.

So distinctive it was younger than the one he had known for years and watched his frame change along the way.

Lassiter stared at the psychic for a moment who walked until wasn't a shadow figure.

"They died suddenly as has everyone."

"...even my baby?

"Lassie, the baby died due to SIDS at the same time."

"No, no, no, not without her!"

"Did I die for you to hinge you existence on a baby or did I die for nothing or are you nothing?" A question that got him to stop and get a grip. "because you're not nothing to me."

Lassiter rubbed the side of his face then faced the psychic who wore a heated glare made of anger. His words hurt Lassiter raw because Shawn was right.

"You are something to me, Carlton." 

Remembering what the fake psychic said.

"You can adopt."

The beat cop was still alive and breathing as he gazed on in anger then back.

"But that would be replacing her!" Lassiter protested.

"Your heart wants to love something." Shawn's words cooled him down.  "Be kind to it, it's expensive but it's worth it in the end."

Shawn took the hand of the beat cop then opened the passenger door to the yellow beat up Ford Explorer.

"... I could rescue a dog. " Lassiter said. 

"Maybe but dogs aren't your style. You need a hug and you will get it, eventually." Shawn started the truck then drove on.

Lassiter was quiet most of the way processing the entire event then remembered the phone and O'Hara. He looked over toward the psychic who was being unusual being this silent which was out of his usual known characteristics. No singing or starting small talk.

The more that he thought about it the more that he saw a good opportunity to catch them off guard with the fact that he survived the explosion. He drove on through the grass avoiding cars through the night that had simply stopped and headlights were beaming in. It just felt wrong about there being so much silence between them.

He was just so..

 Different.

Was this really what Spencer was like when he was serious as a grave and not invested in talking. Really unsettling and wrong. Only so many ways to say disturbing when it pertain to someone such as Spencer.

"Give me a hint where Curity is going."

"I got the vehicle covered." Shawn replied as they passed by the bright lights of restaurants full of dead bodies, like the opening to The Stand, everyone died in place, faces in their last meals, people in the middle of drive through with their heads resting on their steering wheels in various positions or simply still resting in their seats gazing on into the great nothingness.

"Spencer, you owe me."

"Last I saw they were  driving to the residential neighbor hoods and a number of beat cops were on his tail. THE FBI was close behind them and they are going get into a car accident."

"The car will flip and twirl the land on the road. And they get them. All of them. Last I heard," Shawn held his index finger up "anyway,' he turned his attention back on the road. "before going in and untangling a muck of a man's mind."

Lassiter was staring at the psychic who drove on without making around for a long time taking it all in stride.

"Time travel or another dimension." Lassiter stared at Spencer, very hard.

"Time travel,"

"So, it's another dimension ."

"Alternate timeline."

"Dimension!"

"Everyone died. That feels like the apocalypse struck. Big glowing difference and neon light. I might have a virus inside of me!"

The psychic threw his head back with a loud laugh.

"Relax, you not a carrier!" Wearing a very amused grin  with a belly full of laughter.

Lassiter had missed seeing that.

"How would you know, Spencer?" The beat cop  glared back at him.

"The same timeline, Lassie." His hazel youthful eyes resting on the road. "Just altered at one point."

"Two different things, Spencer! Dimensions are worlds that are very different from one another like comic book runs. Each run is different and we know they may have some similar continuity; the world is different from the one that we are familiar to. It's like Launchpad working for a Scrooge McDuck and Darkwing Duck at the same time these are two different worlds."

"Oh yeah then why was McDuck Manor mentioned when Gizmoduck showed up?"

"Forgot about that episode."

Lassiter was trying to differentiate the two subjects to the best of the ability that he knew. The big problem was that Shawn understood perfectly what he was trying to say.

"Timelines can have a small differences, they can have big ones too, many are identical except for tiny differences like clothing  color, hair color, items and how the events play out.. I have not been paid enough to explain something as big as dimensions and timelines, Spencer!"

Shawn chuckled in response then looked over wearing a grin.

"the forest can do that, too. Time travel thing."

Lassiter  cleared his throat.

"Day from now then?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Spencer..."

"Don't mention it."

"We have all been very difficult." Lassiter acknowledged how hard it had to be on the not so fake psychic. "Why..why.... Why trying to make sure we all can live with out you?"

Shawn though it over so silent with his gaze fixated on the road as he arrive to the streets named Rodriguez and Olson.

He stopped the car then unbuckled and faced the beat cop.

"Because a world without Carlton Lassiter is the worst one of all." Shawn said. "Now we go, and then after that, I deal with my own Rudolph Curity."

"Spencer..."

"It doesn't look good but I gotta do it."

"Is there phone trackers in your present?'

"Yeah, long time."

"Shawn, you standing still is the single most impossible and rational thing to do in a forest. Make him pay attention to your phone."

Shawn's eyebrows popped up then he smiled back at him.

"Incredible solution..." Was the remark turning his attention back toward the beat cop.  "Really solves all my problems."

The pair got up then emerged out into the forest.

The beat cop peered into the forest appearing frightening and ominous then it did in the daylight.  It looks nice and dark even mysterious. His head was pounding. Feet planted in the Earth. His heart was pounding even louder against his rib cage that ached.

Shawn took his hand then Lassiter followed him into the dark.

The forest parted revealing the same neighborhood as before and cars driving through the neighborhood. Sea of houses with glowing windows. The same walk he had gone on when he left the forest and listening with Trout but it was a very different way they looked. Foreboding and thick something hiding behind them or in them like squirrels sleep out and attack viciously as ugly menaces of nature.

He gazed out searching for animals with sharp teeth and fixating his attention on ahead.

The fake--no, real one-- psychic took him along over to the nearest car and had the light still powered on. 

"You're fine." Shawn said then lifted the phone up. "Your house on the other hand..."

"But you didn't say anything about my house!" Lassiter point at him accusingly.

Shawn waved his hands in the air.

"It literally just came up, lassie."

"Spencer. I am homeless!"

Shawn browsed for a bit then took out a slip of paper then jotted down on it.

"Laundromat, rent controlled. Call the chief or Jules."

Lassiter looked up and down at the slip of paper then watched him leave as he gaped.

"This time my role is done here! I mean it."

He did as instructed taking his phone out of his pocket then called Trout with the psychic returning into the woods.

"Chief, did my cruiser blow up?"

"Yes, yes, it much did! Where the hell are you?"

"Olsen Street. Rodriguez street."

Trout became silenced on the other end of the call gazing toward the mess of the police cruiser the looked over toward the detective.

She was still there resolved with her decision making taking back what was stolen from her so painfully. No. Not this time. Not as long as she had a means and scream against death and shout, "no. He absolutely did not do that! He is still...HERE."

He turned the attention back on to it the ruined shell of the smoldering police cruiser that had very little evidence of human remains peeking out in it that were obvious as the fire continued to eat away the inside of the police cruiser.

"There is a Shawn Spencer who's been here for three years."

Lassiter staggered back, gaping.

"He is alive?" Lassiter asked, gaping, combing through his dark hair that was graying with his hand and he started to smile including have a little laugh.

"I need you to keep a low profile. This department needs you not to appear on the news!"

Lassiter was silent before lowering his head in disbelief.

"Tell me again that he is alive." Beckoning for the news to be said again then knelt down to his knees.

"Detective, pull the video up." He turned his attention away. "Soon as we get Rudolph Curity and  all of his men into custody, we start getting actual leads from the guy who has him!"

He lowered the phone with the tremble as the video played.

"G..g...G...Gus, is that you?"

It wasn't his but it was Shawn damn Spencer.

Chapter Text

Shawn lifted his fist up toward the door.

This was a difficult moment to live through, the one that he dreaded, never mind having been bothered all morning all day about substantial discussions after accepting the request by the detective. It was hard because he knew what the answer was going to be. It was hard because the whole matter was known and so messed up. Whoever used that ai and robot really hadn't foreseen this coming.

He felt sick thinking about the person who's entertainment was going to end and so was Shawn's. As entertaining as this cause was finding the AI around, stalking him, finding him collapsing into a truck, then removing his face and tending to his silver skull and doing a deep clean surrounded by equipment, he had more important things to do leaving significant emotional pain and heartache tearing everyone apart.

He didn't know how it was going to turn out, no visions of his morbid death, just knowing he was going to have someone else there to witness it. The most terrifying slice of it all. And Gus was not going to be there which would involve all the more intense and extremely dangerous emotional situation.

Shawn knocked on the side of the door. 

"Gus."

Gus glanced up the same way that he had three years ago.

"No, nah uh, no, I am done," Gus was in the middle of work paying very little attention to him. "you nearly got me killed and about fired in that order by one of my bosses, and, you broke that container intentionally that one of my co-workers brought for lunch!"

"Gus, that is really unfortunate.."

"No, Shawn," Gus turned toward the young man. "I am done, literally."

Shawn leaned against the door, nodding, then gazed afar, inhaling so sharply.

"So you're quitting it too."  Gus assumed. "Since you lost that spirit for it."

Shawn faced the direction of the pharmaceutical salesman perched at his desk then swerved his attention away thinking it over. He remembered the sharp and harsh guilt that toyed with his best friend like he was something sticky and meddled with it hurting him in ways that were prominent.

"Gus..."

Nice and ugly and simply a cog in the machine that had to come rusty and full of anger that could crush a good man into broken bones and cartilage and soft tissue like grinding against him.

"I said, I'm done." Gus repeated. "You can pay the lease."

"Gus," Shawn started to request. "don't do this to yourself."

Gus turned toward Shawn wearing a heavy glare. 

"These last few weeks are a real eye opener!"

"Don't even start and say something that will be regretted later down the line."

"You. are. a. JERK! That's what you are! I'm done with this whole thing! All of it!" Words that didn't make Shawn angry or hurt him but made him, quite sad for the pharmaceutical salesman that was sympathetic as if staring at a victim of a major crime seeing a flash forward of him so broken by his brazen last words to him that would haunt him for  a long, long, long time. "Stop looking at me that way!"

Shawn held his hand out behind him as if he heard a series of footsteps for a long moment then lowered his hand and faced him. 

"Gus," his voice was soft, clasping his hands together. " I need you to remember this. I am going to be fine. It is going to be scary. But it will be okay. I love you, man, don't torment yourself that way."

"No way I'm going to torment myself over doing much needed self care!"

Shawn could see a spine in him, and that, that was significant progress, a side of Gus that Shawn didn't know there was, and he liked it.

"I am so proud of you."

"So this is all intentional to close--"

"No." Shawn declined.

"Then why are you talking like that?"

"You dragged me in after claiming you got the tips from me and I've enjoyed every minute being an actual psychic using my abilities. Who gets to say that?"

"I can imagine a handful of people in the city actually psychics that we attended that convention several weeks ago!" Brown eyes studied those hazel ones. "Shawn."

Only thing he can see was a smile and admiration  and a lot of soft gooey things.

"Doing our childhood dreams and one of us is actually a psychic? it's the most incredible thing I have been part of!"

"Now, you're just being weird!" Gus exclaimed, rattled. 

"I don't blame you  a moment for dragging me out and investigating my visions and whatnot. Now I got to go things to do things to see and definitely not return to a missing person's case that is concluding naturally without my role in it."

"You have been doing a missing person's case this entire time!"

"Just a side thing," Shawn shook his hands to the offended pharmaceutical salesman. "you won't even find out who I'm helping out. "

"This ENTIRE TIME." Gus was angry, really angry. 

"Ever since you stopped listening to me!"  Shawn snapped back

Shawn's gaze was locked on the pharmaceutical salesman.  He hated fighting with Gus. 

"Unbelievable." Gus started to turn away.

Then the psychic pointed toward the door keeping his gaze on him, bringing him into the situation with his z-fold. Reading him in but instead... his thoughts wandered remembering how good ai had gotten these last few years. An image so easily dismissed as being manufactured with ai. It really burned his soul facing his best friend who was hurt and didn't believe him.

"Do you see Detective Lassiter over there at the door?" Shawn asked.

Gus looked toward the void then back glaring at Shawn in sheer judgement. 

"There is no Detective Lassiter standing at the doorway, Shawn!" Gus looked back at him in a mix of concern, anger, and bitterness. "Stop playing games and tell me you found a child's dead body that broke you. You need psychological help!" 

Shawn... Was quiet... too quiet... Lowering his hand down to his side staring at the doorway.

"Well... that's a new one...." He turned back toward Gus then back and smiled beckoning him on. "Get going. "

Shawn was silent for a moment.

"My role there is done."

Gus looked back and forth in alarm.

"The investigation can go on without me." Shawn's voice was layered on exasperation. "Stop staring at me!" lifting his head up then dragging his hand down over a groan then faced the air. "These things have to come naturally to them in the middle of a missing person's investigation, you know that! Which it will!"

Gus took out his phone then swiped.

"Oh that doubt is so unlike you!"

Angry and his nerve was throbbing at the argumentative thin air then grew furious in a split second.

"Is that all it takes for you to lose faith?" He wore disappointment so well. "Really!" Raising his voice facing the silence wearing rage "Chaos out of your life! Being gone! For THREE YEARS! You lose faith in the justice system and in things turning up! This is so offensive on so many levels!"

His face relaxed proceeding to laugh stepping back. 

"That big road block is gone." Shawn was quite unnerved as a call was placed from across. "Stop staring at me like I am in denial!"

"Henry Spencer." Henry answered the phone.

"Mr Spencer, it is about Shawn..." Gus started.

Shawn shook his hands at the figure.

"I'm not in denial." Walking around in a circle then turned back and faced him. "Denial is for suuuuuuuckers! Deflecting dead guy who had the nerve to insult the greatest psychic on this side of the world... Dude, move on!"

More silence wearing a hardened look. 

"Yes, you can."

Shawn rubbed his face.

"How did you find me anyway?" Shawn took a couple steps back folding his arms.  "Oh, come on," shaking his head then facing him. "no, nah uh! They can find their guy well without me."

Shawn turned away folding his arms pacing around the room as Gus chattered with Henry then Shawn turned aside facing the doorway.

"He is doing..." Shawn's pitch lifted and cracked. "what to him?"

Shawn was quiet and horrified as the phone call ended. His back against the window gazing on listening with a dismayed expression covering  his mouth listening to the horrific tale. His pupils shrunk with a small girly gasp.

"Dude, I know you are still not over the explosion and this angst is really...." Shawn lowered his hand gazing up. "what explosion?" He stepped forward approaching the doorway looking up and down. "Then how did you..."

His young hazel eyes flashed open.

"You are from that timeline!" Then a flash of anger. "Fine! 'dimension'!" Then he started to laugh. "Okay, okay, " shaking his hands lowering his head pacing around then facing the gap. "so, the gist is give them hints and come back after this is over."

Shawn's head bobbed up as if he exploded and gaped staggering back against the window.

"He also did that?"

Gus looked back and forth.

"To.."

Shawn was so disgusted.

"You are asking me to do something for that little baby girl and kick off a rapid police search that ends things canvassing around the anomaly.. " loudly clasping his hands bobbing his head up. "after I do this chore? Is that correct."

Shawn was back where he stood clasping his hands together facing the unseen figure.

"You say this will play out well.."

His eyes rested on the soundless void.

"If I do what I do, then you have to move on immediately after I go back there and help them." 

There was more silence with a frank unheard answer and a nod.

"Tell me again that bastard made mistakes." Shawn clasped his hands together closing his eyes. "And made people aware of his means...and how there is soo much chaos because of the torture he is putting that poor man through."

More silence for a long uncomfortable silence that was grave for the salesman watching his childhood friend acting so bothered. Stricken even. It was a very heavy subject matter. Acting so ill as if he had masked it for a long time and he couldn't keep the mask there anymore.

The psychic sighed then lowered his head and hands.

"Stop playing games, Shawn." Gus got up the approached the younger man causing him to turn in his direction reiterating the same line. "and tell me you found a kid's dead body that broke you. You need psychological help!"

He looked back and forth then nodded back at thin air.

"I gotta go." Smacking the side of Gus's arm.

Gus slammed the door shut on Shawn.

"Didn't realize it now but you are having a genuine psychotic episode!" Gus roared back.

Shawn looked at the window then back at Gus wearing a smile. A devious one.

"Not budging an inch!" 

Gus stared back at him waiting for Henry to appear and Madeline by his side in a few hours after such a alarming call.

It was done and over with in a moment. A sudden kiss to the salesman lips, startling him, shocking him, stunning him, and then finding himself reciprocating because his friend happened to have improved a lot in the kissing department. Which went on for a long while keeping him there for Henry and mostly to enjoy the kiss.

The kiss broke with Shawn leaping out the window then making a break for it to the parking lot with a limp leaving him behind.

Gus was disoriented for a moment rubbing his lips wavering from side to side. That didn't feel ill at the slightest. It felt real and genuine. He removed a piece of paper from his mouth then unfolded.

Shawn: Sorry, I'm going to be attacked at a forest that is a mass burial site today. Wish the chaos wasn't that bad with the clanker.

Gus shoved it into his pocket then opened the door and rushed on, heart racing, stomach queasy, and scared. Rushing out the building watching the motorcycle drive off into the distance. Loudly revving.

Gus ran over then found the blueberry's tires were cut. 

"Damn it, Shawn!"

Shawn was out of control. He needed another arrest on his record.

He was out of his damn mind.

Special Agent Rufus Grisworld was seated in the chair enjoying a nice meal from a restaurant. Big and filling that he was halfway in the middle of enjoying in the company of others when it came to the normally boring and slow world of desk duty, stake outs, and silence. He was as normally well deserved quiet man who enjoyed the taste of chaos at the fringes of his orbit. Cutting into his meal listening to a family argue over petty drama that was unruly. 

He swallowed a fork full of rice and chicken then closed his eyes coming to a nice and settled moment in the loud and vibrant building that hit the spot of socialization that was so required as imposed long ago to prove he could stand loud people. Proving it to people who name called him the silent seeker, the silent kid, the silent, lots of things. Kids were mean even well into college and he had something to prove to himself every day. He enjoyed hearing the loud signs of people. 

Generic middle aged man with brown balding hair, face of a beloved star from a old 90s show, constantly compared by his colleagues,.

A younger man with a brilliant well kept figure sat down into the booth on the other side of the table. 

"The spirits say your people want to bring in a guy called Rudolph Curity."

Grisworld hacked smacking his fist against his chest then faced him.

"I'm sorry, we haven't met." Grisworld lowered the fork then leaned forward. "Who are you?"

"Shawn Spencer," His hazel eyes matched the big unique smile. "was," then looked aside. "or had been," sharply inhaling before lifting his gaze up. "head psychic of the Santa Barbara Police Department."

Grisworld leaned back snapping his fingers. 

"Ooooh that psychic!"

"The one and only."

"You found where the man lived."

"It took some doing last night...."

"Where is he?"

"But first..."  Shawn leaned forward looking quite cross. 

"First, what?"

"You need to get a canine unit that can sniff out bodies."  Shawn proceeded to lay it out for the older man.  "Additional bodies, I can lead you to the spot, you need several transportation vans, forensics, a press, and boom, bam, big whole spotlight!"

Shawn leaned forward clasping his hands together. 

"Not so surprised to see that he has a burial ground for the inconveniences." Grisworld then tilted his head and glared back at him. "He is not a guy most people should be friends with. He's a bad guy."

"And the spirits happily agree." Shawn replied. 

"Where does the man live at, again?"

"First, call in your buddies," Shawn said. "Second, call in your buddies, third, call in your buddies."

"He is a dangerous fellow." Grisworld said. 

"Gotta chose," Shawn held his hands up as if he were weighing something significant. "glory hound, or loose cannon that gets itself destroyed."

"Where's your partner?"

"Things just got in the way between us, he would be here, if it weren't for some complications, but I have to do this alone and it's just the spirits testing my resolve to help people." was how the psychic rationalized. "Think I am ace-ing it, but terribly."

Grisworld moved the plate aside facing the psychic in a moment of concern seeing nothing but trouble and fear in his eyes. 

"Spirits showed you something."

"It could be less worse."

"What happened in that vision, Shawn?"

"I died outside the compound with one of my favorite detectives unable to do a damn thing about it." was the way that he started. "I was brought there, buried, my ring finger removed, my wallet taken, my phone taken, and just..." He buried his face into his hands. "I messed up Rudolph really well."

"Doesn't strike me as the guy who gets beat up over killing a guy."

"He went over kill."

"... over kill?"

"Over kill."

"And then the detective leaves and never ever talks about it because he can't."

"Why can't he talk about it?" Swaying his hand from side to side. "Possibly, in that vision."

"He promised me." Shawn said. "Or had, or would've, could've, don't get me into details," Shaking his hand from side to side. "we're avoiding the incident!"

Grisworld looked aside then back at everything that he knew about the man that made him so dangerous. 

"And I want to avoid that investigation so badly, avoid having to go to that compound, having to avoid putting him in that position, keeping my death a secret that hurts him so much, someone is getting hurt today up close and personal and none of my friends are going to see it."

Grisworld laughed lowering his head, then lifting it, ticked, leaning to his side, his laughter rattling the booth, then lowering his head, lowering his glasses, cleaning them, then lifting the glasses back up

"You're not going to the compound," Grisworld replied. "so we can avoid that."

The psychic visibly relaxed then lowered his head as his eyes fluttered close getting something heavy off his chest. 

"He uses it often enough." Shawn said. 

Grisworld leaned forward setting aside his glasses. 

"How many bodies are in that site?" Grisworld asked. 

Shawn looked up toward the man for a long time." 

"I can't do this with you with you." Shawn got up but was stopped before leaving the booth by the older man stepping in the way. 

"Give me an idea, Shawn." Grisworld plead, his eyes darting from side to side. "Need to be prepared for this." He was so sincere and caring, Shawn had  a brief flicker of the man's career helping victims climb out of the dark. "Finding a lot of bodies.." Carrying a scared seven year out of a house covered in a blanket. "it's.." racing out of another house on fire covered in shoot guiding a distraught woman out along with her small dog. "Not something that a man can digest easily facing horror."

It was a hard thing to swallow even from a psychic's perspective dragged into something so chaotic that swallowed the air and the mood and emotions throwing people into gutters and a rocky terrain that hurt being dragged over that burned so dearly. He was a good guy that had a heart. A heart that steadied him in the middle of this horrible and awful nightmare. 

So Shawn told him. 

He watched him be seated looking on into the distance, appalled. 

Shawn walked off. 

The head detective was in the middle of interrogation waiting for the man to crack.

His hands clasped together on the table staring at him so cold and unforgiving for a very long time.

The door to the interrogation room swung open then the psychic appeared with a pant smacking himself against the wall, swallowing hard, then sliding down, wincing, gripping the handle.

"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted, irritated.

Shawn held his hand up for a long moment as the suspected criminal gazed aside facing the detective then the psychic who staggered forward and planted his hands on to the table then gently dropped his phone on the steel table. 

Lassiter was about to get up when the psychic shoved him down resting one hand on the shoulder and gazed down upon him. 

"I don't... have... time for this... back and forth." Shawn said. 

Lassiter's phone started to ring then he withdrew it and Shawn tapped on the button. 

"Spencer, what is the matter with you?" Lassiter asked, irked, disgusted. 

Shawn got a grip over himself as the phone started ringing then he hung up as soon as Gus's name appeared on the screen, he did this over, and over, and over. Something quite shocking seeing him hang up on his best friend. It started to sink into the head detective that something terrible had gone wrong between them. Heavily erroneous as a avoidable error. The final nail in the coffin between them, closing Psych for good, about to confess to something that warranted being called and begged not to listen to him, which would get him out of their lives forever. 

"Do you have a phone tracking app?" Lassiter's eyebrows furrowed as his jaw fell slack seeing how serious the psychic was. He was breathing quite fast facing him on the edge of his feet. "Do you?"

"Yes, yes, I do!" Lassiter replied.

"Exce... excelente!"

His gears twisted and turned quite fast as it became apparent it wasn't that. 

"Will you leave me alone if I put your phone in, Spencer?"

Shawn wore that familiar grin.

"Graci... gracias!"

Shawn had an inhale lowering his head at the confused head detective who just wanted this moment over with yet had some mild concern and alarm bells were ringing in his head so loudly. 

"Five minutes." Shawn looked over facing the detective wearing a smile. "In thirty minutes... I need you... to pay attention.." Lifting his finger up then gesturing toward the phone as he swallowed in a deep breath. "to the phone."

"This has to do with irrational claim that a robot is replacing you." Lassiter dead panned. 

Shawn looked over toward his side in between breaths squinting back at him then facing the suspect who was buff and hairy then faced the head detective.

"A robot.. HAS... replaced... me!" Shawn repeated, distressed. 

"I enjoyed it initially after you and Guster got banned from working with the department—"

"Lassie, I don't ... have ...much time!"

Lassiter and Shawn worked for a few minutes getting his phone into the phone tracker.

"What are the two of you up to?" Lassiter looked up facing the panting psychic. 

Shawn gazed back and forth toward the wall across that drew the attention of the suspect then back facing Lassiter and back toward the other window across from him seeing O'Hara there.

"Detective." Shawn looked down upon the older detective for a moment quite fondly dripping sweat, squeezing his eyes close, a series of images, Victoria, Lassiter watching her leave into the night, all on Tuesday the 17, then opened his eyes and noticed the wedding ring was off his finger then smiled. He was going to be fine no matter how it turned out there. "You're ... a good man."

"Difference between you and me."

He looked up facing the void then down. 

"There's ... really ....no... difference."

"There is a big huge difference!"

"I would ... love.. really..  to stay ... and continue... being ...in your hair. "

"Oooooh, you're leaving Santa Barbara!" Lassiter leaned back proceeding to smile having some laughter in amusement facing the psychic. "not going to work," Folding  his arms so tickled. "no intelligent police department is working to work with a thorny psychic."

Shawn rested his hand on the back of the chair. 

"Congrats on the divorce, Carlton." Shawn replied. "Tell Jules, sorry."

"Why don't you tell her yourself?" Lassiter asked. 

Shawn was gone almost in a flash speeding out of interrogation and running when his phone started ringing again. He answered the phone lifting it to his ear sliding back wearing a smirk. 

"So Psych is closing." Gus was speaking, fast, too fast, sounded like gibberish between fear and crying. "Guster, slow down!"

"Shawn's having a psychotic break!" Gus was speaking fast, but not as fast. "Mr Spencer and I are looking for him! He's not at the office! Or the laundromat! He needs to go to a mental health hospital! Mr Spencer has already called his mom and she is well on her way here from San Diego!"

Lassiter was up to his feet whirring toward the door as his jaw dropped. 

"He just came in here." then faced the suspect and relaxed right there in the seat. "I'll have him in my custody in thirty minutes so he can have a mental health evaluation in approximately that time."

"HE ACTS LIKE HE IS GOING TO DIE TODAY!" It was a scream that came off the phone, that was intense. 

He hadn't heard Gus that scared before and it was so loud that he hung up with that then got up from the chair.  The psychic had seen something mind numbing and horrific that it called into doing things so unlike him. 

"Write your confession on that legal pad, and it better be there by the time that I come back," Lassiter's words were cold and swift. "If not, I am having someone come in, meaner, harder else stare at you even harder."

Lassiter was out of the room and closing the door so fast. 

"O'Hara, we have a problem with the psychic."  Lassiter informed her. 

"What is going on with him?" O'Hara's concern was easily felt. 

"Were you even listening to the discussion?" Lassiter asked.

"The sound was off." O'Hara replied. 

"He is in the middle of something and Guster is locked out of it." Lassiter proceeded to explain. "And he told me to apologize to you," then furrowed his eyebrows. "Does that mean anything to you?"

O'Hara's mouth was left hanging with no real answer.

He visited the old office finding the clanker and Gus and his father. 

A rather reassuring site that the plan was going according to plan seeing how angry that his father was chewing him out.

The robot's little finger still had the little pried off finger tip revealing nothing but silver as he slipped on the small rubber finger covering it right up. He squinted and saw the bot had something it didn't have before. A soul. He had actually self actualized, where had the soul come from? Well, once pretending to be the thing after a while, one becomes convinced of it, claiming the identity, becoming humanized and settled by those reacting harshly to it's actions that were terrible. As if they were programs themselves building up the very thing.

He read their lips, they were going to the police department in thirty minutes and reading Lassiter in to the case that Shawn was on.

The very fake Shawn Spencer really didn't have a case on according to the genuine look of confusion gazing back and forth between them.  

He walked on past the window heading on for the next part of the operation that meant regrouping with the FBI agent quite short far off. 

Thirty precise minutes passed for the psychic. 

He got up facing the forest feeling his heart held in anxiety. 

He still had another errand to run and that meant being dropped at Rodriquez and Olsen street by the FBI agent. Someone who did owe him for giving him some excitement this day gave closure for the families who had questions and no answers regarding the absence of their loved ones. He emerged out of the car facing the dog that he recognize quite well. So much closure and thanks ahead for the special agent. 

"This is.." Grisworld began. 

"Georgie!" Shawn finished, cheerfully. 

Shawn looked up facing the dog handler and Grisworld's acting FBI partner. 

"Hanx is so allergic to dogs, it's not even funny." Grisworld said. "I still find it stupid how he wants to travel along with the damn thing. Really not a good idea even with pills helping him being around the main asset of the operation."

"Why does he look like Bones's psychologist Doctor Sweets?" Shawn asked. 

Topping turned toward the psychic wearing a smile that was so bright and friendly. 

"We're not related." Topping said. 

"And where is the FBI back up? FBI van?"

"We need to see the grave before we do that." Topping answered. 

"Ooooh, skeptics!" he went over to the dog then gently petted it kneeling down, warmly, then got back up, facing the men. "I'll prove you all wrong!"

Shawn descended into the forest followed by the men who tagged behind him including the dog handler following his lead in a neat line passing by the various trees leading directly into the not so thick woods. Shawn rested his hand on the side of a tree then started to sink feeling as a crime scene from years ago reeled across his mind. Grimacing and sinking down to the land lowering his gaze. He slid up shaking his hand dismissingly. 

"Wrong tree to lay a hand on."

The psychic walked on down the path shaking his head. 

Shawn gently walked down the corridor of the forest closing his eyes stung by images of bodies dragged into  the forest with shovels all except for Billword who was alive and well out there presumably hadn't been touched by Rudolph Curity.

He came to a pause feeling heavier and stung in his chest on a patch of land then stumbled back landing against a tree. The Sting from a spirit demonstrating how they had been  killed as did others demonstrating in various other forms of pain that varied. Georgie sped on by and dug fast leaving a small hill behind revealing a grave. Then running off and digging up another grave. Grisworld stared on as his jaw dropped in horror at the reveal. 

"My god, he's an actual psychic." Full of pity and sympathy for the young man.

"Get the dog back up front!" Topping barked. 

Georgie was tugged away by Officer Amelia Hartnold withdrawing him from the scene as the dog barked and wagged his tail walking off. 

"Oh, we didn't have a tragedy this time." Shawn rubbed his face, stricken, relaxing. 

A loud pop disturbed the peace.

His hazel eyes strayed over toward Grisworld who's left sleeve was becoming stained.

A gun shot that ran in the air then Shawn gazed aside looking over toward the direction ahead

Shawn's jaw slowly fell as his heart fell recognizing the familiar face and horror seeded upon his mind realizing it was here, the moment that he anticipated for, yet, it all the same relieved him, the tension fading, it was here, and it didn't scare him. The anxiety falling his heart beat loudly ringing in his ear quite so slowly. A small breath of relief that it was here.

The psychic recognized the familiar face of the man who had killed him the first time around. Georgie ran off into the distance coming back to the scene of the crime rushing pas the psychic while panting. Silence hung there for a complete second as the start of the nightmare began well prepared for and orchestrated. Shawn got up then ran and knocked down Topping knocking his head against a tree knocking out the agent cold as Grisworld withdrew his gun and traded shots. 

Grisworld was knocked down to the ground as Georgie continued digging up the numerous unmarked graves. 

Shawn got up to his feet and ran off from the scene heading on toward the road. He didn't get too far though into the forest, a high pitched shriek, a sharp burning pain in his back, a couple rounds, falling, then dragging himself forward landing on to the dirt. Crawling slowly instead of walking fast which was enough to be notable on a phone tracking his every movement. A practical dot being registered.

Lassiter probably was looking at his phone seeing him seated there running, probably saw the bot, then looked up, seeing Shawn Spencer, then down. The psychic closed his eyes pressing his finger against the side of his temple picking up on the phone call as the image flashed across his mind of the detective approaching the bot then tearing off his face and summoning gasps all over the room. Lassiter holding up the phone then making a bolt for it alongside O'Hara as he took his phone out making a call for the ambulance.

Curity walked on by the knocked out FBI agent heading toward the psychic holding a gun in his hand. 

Shawn flipped himself on to his side dragging himself up a tree feeling so much heavier than before and his spinal cord felt numb wanting to hunch over then collapse as he looped his arm along a thin branch still standing. 

This would have been so horrible if Gus was here. 

"Isn't it the psychic of the Santa Barbara Police Department." then Curity added for extra  measure watching the psychic starting to slip and his eyes closing and opening struggling to breathe. "Or was."

Curity traded in the gun for the knife then his will to stand fell apart.

"Everyone is on their way." Shawn said, watching some movement from over Grisworld. 

Shawn collapsed down from the tree landing to his side. 

"Who is?"

"The FBI ... and the... police.. department."

"What are they going to do? they're just going to process my crime."

Shawn had a painted laugh looking up toward the man.

"Not if the detective is breaking the speed limit tracking my phone." Shawn replied. 

The smile on the face of the criminal faded then attacked him viciously in the chest until two gun shots rang in the air and he screamed falling to his side. Shawn looked over toward his side facing the direction of the oncoming two blurry figures joined by another figure appearing out of the blurry light punctuated by bird calls and the shadows of the trees. 

"Spencer!" Lassiter barked from afar, gazing around in front of him, then ahead, slightly lowering the gun, his glare from a distance softening and becoming as shocked as O'Hara's face. "Spencer?"

Shawn hacked up blood and laughed watching Curity's shadow stand up.

"Shawn!" Gus called. 

When his eyes opened, there was a gurney approaching, a white blanket over Grisworld's figure, Curity tied up around a tree, his men cuffed, and Gus notably hyperventilating beside him all twisted up and upset. Visibly crying for how wounded the psychic was. 

"I'll.. be... right.. back."

It was time to do another errand.

"What?"

He could do it.

"Little astral projection."

"You can't do that to me!"

".. relax.... just... relax.." 

"You can't astral project, you've never done it before!" Holding his hand that was untouched from the blood as he shouted looming right over him. "Shaaaaaaawn!" His voice cracking as he stretched the word out. "Don't you dare let go of my hand! Shawn!"

Gus watched his friend's figure pass out as he screamed in heartache and fear then felt breathing alongside his ear. 

"Just never thought it would be this necessary, Gus," was the whisper in his ear. "and relax, it's going to be fine." Words of arrogance that was nice and fun. "I never foresaw this... I'm going to be fine given a couple weeks of recovery."

Gus looked over and there was nothing there as his haw hung open.

"Dude, do you know the definition of relax?"

The paramedics became busy lifting him on to the gurney then carry him away through the forest weaving around the graves. He stood up then gazed back and forth before turning his attention away then sped after them wiping off tears still scared. Lassiter was more pale than the junior detective who were being read into how it all came to pass by Topping. 

Chapter Text

"First thing in the morning, you drag me out and for... what?"

"This."

The lights flashed on revealing the four seated differently. Shawn Spencer wearing a tucked in plaid and a tie alongside Gus. The ones across from him were Lassiter and O'Hara notably disheveled.

Lassiter looked weird being that unkept but his romulan hair style looked incredible.  How did he still look attractive looking so rugged! All with the shadow of a beard on his face that had yet to be shaved. Lassiter was snatched before he could shave which tracked with how unkept the duo looked. Lassiter's sleeve was stained just as much as his fist indicating a big squabbling fight just taking him. O'Hara's hair was wild and easy, he also observed that she was missing a shoe.

"Detective Spencer?"

"Detective Guster?"

He saw himself looking so annoyed.

"What did you get into now, Lassiter?" 

It was so weird to hear himself that mean.

"We're not on a case right now, detective."

"Kind of had to prove it because you got involved in a very sensitive case."

"That case would not as much sensitive!"

"It involved a mayoral candidate being murdered."

"It was a suicide that you blew up into something more!"

"The spirits were right in the end!"

"Lassiter, stop. you're not a psychic." So exasperated and done with the issue. "I proved that already."

"Not if I change the mind of the public somehow and somehow in this nasty situation."

"Of course your lives upside down after proving that once and for all you are not a psychic after a sensitive case! You are going away for a long time, Adam Hornstock or not."

"Nope, still a psychic."

"And it is going to get us all killed!"

"Carlton Lassiter has done nothing wrong," Wolf began. "You, Shawn Spencer," he withdrew a sharp blade sliding it against the man's hairless cheek who grimaced. "Is a whole other story."

Lassiter looked up facing the direction of Shawn Spencer from above cloaked on darkness then faced the direction of the man and tilted his head ever so slightly without a squint.

"The spirits," his voice boomed in the room. "they tell me we are not the only ones in this room!"

Wolf looked over quite impressed.

"So he is an actual psychic." Wolf remarked facing Lassiter carrying the blade towards the man. "Tell me how did Mr Spencer lose his father?"

Lassiter lowered his head, his eyes squeezing tight, gasping in pain, quite a performance. A moment after he lifted up facing him.

"My spirit guide says he was blown up by a bomber in the middle of apprehending him."

Wolf looked up 

"Never happened."

"Yes, it did!"

"He was a shitty father molding you into a detective and he burned away that bridge lying to you about your mother. You got a record. You can't be a cop."

There was silence in the room.

"And you wanted to help the right person get caught instead of an innocent person..." Was the sequence of events that were continued.  "You used the tip line regularly enough that a detective built his entire career off it."

Lassiter leaned back and laughed at the remark that was given life by the man.

"I have heard enough of this blasphemy!" Lassiter replied.

Wolf looked up lifting his hand along the way and pressed a button.

"And you solved the wrong case." Wolf went over to O'hara who looked panicked.

Lassiter looked back and forth seeing the upset man.

"He knew my dad." Was the reply 

Shawn was screaming as the man moved over toward Lassiter with the blade

"Remember this, Detective Spencer. He is only dead because of you." He came to a halt in front of the man who wore a brief flash of horror then retained his cold gaze.

"What did I do?" Was the detective's reply.

"You solved a case that I didn't want figured out in the first place."

"What case? Tell me and I won't do it!"

"Won't cut it."

"Why? Why not?"

"No reason to happen, two very different orbits on two very different occupations."

The stabbing motion was over in a few minutes scattering blood and horror gleefully.

But Gus's attention was on his best friend who had no one beside him.

His platonic life partner. The other half of his soul that was bleeding out and so vulnerable. Actively suffering screaming at the same time as his partner who's soul was being tormented. A horrible scene from a horror movie that didn't have an end on sight.

Gus fell over to his side then kicked at the chair until it were busted. 

Wolf heard the fake psychic scream louder then faced him and got stabbed in the chest so suddenly full of intent.

"That's for hurting my best friend on the entire world." Outraged with intent and twisted it. "And toying with his fragile... Guilty...broken... mind!"

Gus tipped him forward then the man collapsed to the ground landing on the pool of light. Bleeding out laying there.

"Gus, call the paramedics!" Was the detective's reply. "Now!"

"We are leaving with that fake psychic between us and stealing a car--"

"Run, run, he couldn't have done this alone!"

"Oh. That is just wrong!" 

Gus ran out of the old warehouse and ran right speeding away taking his phone out.

The door slowly closes as O'Hara passed out in the chair.

The door opened again over the wailing of the fake psychic in his ear bud that lit it up upon the connection re-connecting.

"You owe me, big time. Spencer."

"What are you doing?" Was the question thrown.

"Saving lives at the cost of pain and suffering, really gave no choice, killing all my men, your father trained a assassin. Your counterpart..."

Lassiter lifted his head up facing the older detective who was now a mess of sobs on his knees burying his face into his hands.

"Detective." Lassiter called out.

"Yeah?"

"Not you, that one! Detective!" A shout that drew his weepy attention. "Don't do this to yourself."

A few more sobs escaped facing very fake psychic Carlton Lassiter.

"It's all my fault!" Shawn's scream was easily read.

"It is...." His voice was becoming weaker. "Counter productive."

Shawn wore intense anger facing him shaking his head and so much sadness.

"Deserves what is coming to him." Wolf concluded

"Lassiter!"  The detective cried out.

"Get ready to go, we are through here." Was the comeback.

The fake psychic was transported in a taxi cab to the house while the men took the limo. His weeping pronounced and aged there in the corner of the vehicle. It still hurt him so raw.

A world without Carlton Lassiter out there in a swap of roles. Felt silent. Gaping. 

He had a chance... Right? Paramedics? Skilled surgeons? To pull through? To prove him wrong?

His heart was heavy and  made of soft  pain that was edible like turkey skin after being well cooked. Fatty and delicious and soft meat.

But to who? It was Eold Wolf.

The door opened then he staggered open and was blinded in darkness.

Chapter Text

Two days had passed since his life was so rocked.

Going behind the chief's back and telling his moms that he was alive and well made the situation all that easier. Bearable to a certain degree that helped him live through this horrible situation. The kind of situation that made an average man become a huge mess.

Lassiter was pretty sure the entire department knew that his death was faked. 

Wearing shades and weeding through the department then opening the door and rushing on for quick police job.

"Chief, I need to do something."

"And do what? Endanger yourself?"

"It doesn't have to be my old route. It could be a welfare check in."

"Welfare check."

"I would rather pick up some civilian having a bad mental health episode and carry them like a suit case through raining cats and dogs to the nearest mental health hospital..."

His voice was on the edge facing the acting chief that got on his nerves so thoroughly that it should be a crime. Should be but it was not in the least. A man ready to break apart at the seams for unable to be serving on duty and be needed. 

"then check on someone who has family and friends capable of knocking on the door."

Trout cupped the side of his face wearing a wry smile.

"It's really not that entertaining."

"Sir, if I grew a mustache and wore shades then the general public will never know I was walking around with them."

"It's police work." Trout replied, leaning back. "Cab'ret Cabinnet." He slid forward a slip of paper. "Hasn't shown up for work this morning."

Lassiter looked down upon the slip of paper and picked it up.

"He is the sort of guy who shows up." Lassiter assumed.

"Regularly." Trout said.

"It is odd to ask for an ordinary man--"

"A very generous anonymous donor to the police department would like this inspected very thoroughly."

"Donor." Lassiter replied turning away and walked out of the office. "Huh."

Gus slept in that day feeling nice and light as a feather feeling one day closer to the nightmare ending. He had something that the hadn't felt for over three years that was in his hands and lit up like a golden ball that glowed full of magical stuff that was healing and enlightening. He could feel it in his chest, in his soul, in his mind, in his step, he could feel it in the sunlight pouring into the room.

All it took was a handful of days that were blurring together as the number was increasingly becoming hard to remember and keep track of due to the chaos that raged within them.

Gus withdrew his phone from the counter then went through his contacts until finding Charlene and calling her on messenger. 

"Charlene Charlamagne."

"How do you think about moving in to my place with Frederick and Annie?" Gus asked. 

Charlene's laughter was so prized and lovely that it made Gus's world light up brightly in the day. 

"The slowest pharmaceutical salesman and also by far the fastest." Charlene said. 

"I was waiting for you to bring it up!"

"It's your house!"

"I'm your fiance! You're an idiot, I love you, and I'll see you in two hours!" he was out of bed, getting his clothes all set, quick, proceeding to explain his plans. "I'll get two guests rooms that need to be emptied," he walked down the hallway then peered into the two rooms. "going to hire some movers with this effort, we're moving in with the kids then you are leaving your mark in MY HOUSE!"

Gus faced the rest of the house that was quite bland and generic as he continued pausing for a moment wearing a scowl over her giggling then looked down at a old picture of himself and Shawn.

"I don't care how ugly it is!"

He went to the bathroom then opened the door.

Gus hung up then got up from bed wearing a big happy grin that lingered in his soul taking strides that he hadn't for a long time. It was a ridiculous stupid stalemate that both of them were waiting for the other to make the move, and he didn't know what to feel, being on the same page as someone, this much, playing chicken, when it came to not stepping on each other's toes. Charlene made him feel soft sweet stupid idiot in all the right places and so loved in all the right places. 

And Shawn was going to fit in somehow as a component of chaos itself making their teenage years so eventful.  Like a comedy family friendly movie featuring Dwayne Johnson except he had HAIR. The most prized thing of all. Well, not that way, he didn't remember Shawn as the kind of action hero that had muscles but the vibe of being a hero was all there. The hero that was lost and stopped being tracked by the camera a long time ago. His best friend needed an anchor getting back to normal life like the tidal waves colliding against the buffs providing little destruction, lapping, gently, like birds laying nests in the cracks, cold, lifeless, rough, life being peppered in life. 

Psychologically, Shawn was going to need some down time before returning to their old favorite shared business. Disneyworld for starters! Perhaps Hawaii!

Disneyworld! Definitely!

Gus felt excellent.

Lassiter drove through the city until reaching residential neighborhood 

Nice and sprawling and full of green that bore resemblance to his route.

He came to a halt along the shoulder of the road and parked the car. He emerged out of it then saw a couple figures dart from behind the house out the back fence. He closed the door sliding on his shades then leaned in reporting a disturbance and that he was investigating it.

Genuine moment where he felt like a detective again doing some investigating that felt tense. Withdrawing his gun slowly creeping up the stairs to the porch then stepped aside and lowered in spotting a broken collapsed chair and a very bloody man on the floor. He moved aside.

Opened the screen door. Then kicked down the door aiming the gun from side to side then hurried in rushing in to the building and joining the man's side. A blood trail leading to the back door indicated he wasn't tortured there.

His eyes fluttered open facing the beat cop who looked over him.

"You.." he looked like he saw the enormous hand of God looking over him in a terrifying context reaching out for him and he yanked off the playground of Santa Barbara.

No pulse with a visible sign of having been tortured.

Deep scarring into his arms, face, tattered pieces of clothing, pants equally tattered, then he staggered back for a moment withdrawing his personal radio. Taking in the man that had been beaten up with an inch of his life. Bloody face that wasn't handsome or well preserved like a doll, but severely hideous.  

Lassiter stood up to his feet then left the crime scene and waited for the coroner and the familiar car driven by O'Hara. 

"Did you touch anything?" O'Hara asked. 

"Just the side of his neck." Lassiter replied. 

O'Hara rushed on by as Lassiter withdrew the phone then turned away lowering his gaze. 

"Harris Trout."

"Chief.." Lassiter inhaled, sharply. 

"How is Cab'ret?" Trout asked. 

"Very, very, very dead." Lassiter answered. 

Chapter Text

Another scene, different chair.

He took in the arrangement that was the same as before. Shawn wearing a tucked in plaid and Lassiter who wore an untucked dress shirt. Except Lassiter's wrists were cuffed and hooked up to chains that was obvious from an observer above who could see the scene from above. They were rhe same age as when Wolf and his men swooped into the psychic's life taking it apart day by day.

The crowd were gazing all around save for the detective Spencer who gazed up and aquinted sight of the definitively world shaking view. Their eyes meeting the other, one set apologetic, one set confused and alarmed. His aging hazel eyes shot over toward the silver fox in a confusion about the restraints.

"One of you is a vampire."

Shawn swallowed hard.

"Why you do have my husband tied up that way?" He heard his own voice. 

Husband. 

"It's for security purposes." Wolf replied.

Shawn saw the golden band on his finger and a engagement ring.

"Out yourselves before I do it."

Gus looked back and forth glaring in alarm and certain panic gazing from one to the other as Wolf pressed a button.

Lassiter's cold blue eyes full of uncertainty  focused on the younger man spelling out angst of telling him and how it would break him. His blue eyes shot over toward Gus and relaxed at the person who grounded the younger detective through  the bad divorce with Abigail. His mind haunted by fear, dread, and anxiety about the upcoming moment.

The panels lifted and light shined upon members of the crowd.

O'Hara started burning and screaming off the top of her lungs, wailing. 

"Stop it!" Shawn demanded. 

And then Lassiter immediately followed her lead within seconds.

"Stop it right this instant! Stop! Stop!"

He watched their flesh turn to black, hair be eaten away by the sunlight, hissing, growling, clothing turning to burned pieces of rags. The light claiming their body taking them fast one piece at a time. One square inch at a second. O'Hara's frame become thinner and thinner getting closer to a skeleton that lost touches of humanity revealing her well hidden small fangs. Still incredibly beautiful even as a vampire.

"Close the window! She is one of the good ones!"

Shawn watched O'Hara yanked her hands out of the binds which allowed to flop out into the darkness where her figure relaxed passing out in the dark.

"Oh... Jules."

But his counterpart was still screaming intensely leaning forward watching Lassiter fade away, falling over, kicking at the chair attempting to break it, his eyes on the figure, breaking leg by leg.

"Get to him! Now! You are so close! That last leg doesn't need kicked off! Kick him into the shadows and break one of his ribs! Shawn! Hurry! Hurry up! GET UP AND KICK HIM INTO THE DARK! STOP WASTING TIME! Save Carlton!"

"Babe! I am coming! I am coming! I am coming for you!"

Still having a wonderful view of his partner's frame falling apart, falling down to his knees ceasing to acream, his eyes vanishing leaving behind big empty sockets, horrific, and turn to ash within seconds. A wedding band hit the floor followed by the distinctive clang. 

Once he was gone, the window paneling lowered and there was silence. Silence consumed the heart of the building. There was sound but no one could hear it.

"CARLTON!"

The detective became still and silent staring at the void where his husband once was parked. Speechless.

Panting leaning on to his side waiting to hear his voice. All the strange things that had been happening lately. He stared at the complete and utter darkness. Thinking back how the detective rarely seeing him in direct sunlight these last few weeks.

The detective couldn't hear his counterpart's bereaved broken screams that became distant and the spotlight turned off hearing the sound of footsteps trailing away.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Shawn Spencer." Wolf said.

Wolf opened the door allowing in sunlight and closed the door behind him.

Wolf was immediately attacked by a very much sunlight immune vampire fake psychic Lassiter lunging after him bearing sharp fangs. Long sharp fingernails digging into the older man's frame leaving puncture marks drawing blood pinning down him down onto the road. Fear of God followed by surprise on Wolf's face.

"The devil personally sent me here to make sure someone collected your soul and sent it to Hell!" It was like a jaguar roar in those words that held vengeance, justice, cold hard hate. "He is very impatient!"

He started stretching his mouth open.

"He doesn't like being kept waiting of a overdue appointment."

Marj tugged him off and yanked Wolf into the limo closing the door behind him. The vampire tackled Marj knocking him down drinking from him empty lifting his head up, mouth bloody, hissing, and charged. The limo sped away being chased by a vampire.

Shawn paid little to no attention on his little crying corner.

Not even to the sound of something climbing.

"It is still after us, boss!" Drewisy shouted from afar.

A stake was thrown into Dareick's hand then he actes fast by liftinf the roof window and stood up sliding it open. He stabbed the vampire right at the chest knocking the wind out of him. Gasping. Mouth hanging open in a fit of shock. Dougie shoved the vampire forward knocking him off watching him roll off landing to the hard pavement.

"I got it!"

"Sit down!"

"Someone owes me beer!*

The vampire laid there for a few minutes. Silent. Motionless. 

A young black man same to his side.

"Oh my God!" And tugged out the stake.

The vampire bit into his neck and drank him dry.

His cheer wound healing fast hidden beneath the dark articles or clothing.

The vampire withdrew the keys and pressed a button

Bing. Hopped into a car, breaking the speed limit, continuing the chase. He set up a auto pilot for the car on ease using some items on hand and rolled down the window. Keeping a book on the gas. Climbing out. Dragging himself forward shattering a window and smacking his fist on the roof.

Wolf opened the window taking out a long dagger but was tugged out in one swoop rolling over on to the car keeping up pace.

it was fast and quick being bitten struggling against the weight of the powerful vampire.

From afar Wolf planted a long short strip of thorns and took out his phone, annoyed, heaving a big sigh, eyebrow twitching.

The car came to a stop throwing the pair right into a bakery.

The limo stopped and Wolf walked around proceeding to hop on.

"I am killing you all the next time you suggest stopping the car and letting thar vampire drink us all because his anger will make him empty him in his wrath!" Wolf slammed the door close lifting his hand up toward the weepy psychic.

"How did you survive, Mr Wolf?" Dougie asked.

The limo drove off from the chaos.

"I actually hit the heart at the end in self defense." Wolf stated.

The spotlights struck back on. 

Big flashes of light revealing the figures that belonged to Lassiter and Shawn dressed in white looking confused.

There was so much annoyance on the head detective's face gazing back and forth as Wolf removed the blind fold for the fake psychic then motioned toward the pair. He turned on the lights then their attention went up facing the unusual scene. Their faces falling gazing down as the shocking mood fell upon them rendering speechless and confused, the younger Shawn Spencer gawking, speechless, as if he was in the twilight zone but in a bitter and darker version that was about to end horribley. 

Shawn was screaming demanding it not be done at all, yelling after the man as two figures joined his side, screaming, changing his mind, and shouting. 

"Don't you dare do that on their wedding night!"

The door closed behind wolf who withdrew a long knife descending down the steps  leading toward the couple. 

"If you kill either of us," Lassiter warned. "I will devote my life to hunting you down and kill you."

"That is a promise." was the round of agreement.

"Neither of you can follow through," was the response by Wolf. "Neither of you can touch me where I go," linking his hands behind his back, facing them, then turned toward the window, facing his captive. "Seven years? Right?"

Now, Shawn was straight up apologizing to Wolf and crying. 

"Right then!"

Wolf approached the young fake psychic and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest until the suit was stained in so much red over the tears of the fake psychic who's voice was muffled behind the glass window. He was lifted out of the seated by two men then carried away. His sniffled apologies became smaller and smaller that went unheard as Lassiter screamed his husband's name, distraught. 

"SHAWN! SHAAAWWN!"

"And by the way... it wasn't your fault, it was all his," he motioned toward the window over the screaming head detective looking down in amusement. "He reopened the case. Not you."

"SHAWN!" Crying and screaming between tears. 

"Get used to hating his guts for getting himself killed." 

He patted on the head detective's shoulder then left as the fake psychic was blind folded again. 

"NEVER!" Lassiter screamed. 

Shawn's chest was aching, throbbing, waves of dulling pain, as if chambers in his heart were sore, empty, wounded, even though it hadn't been stabbed. 

Looking over to his side passing out in the world of pain and heartache and remorse for all that had transpired falling into the sweet welcoming dark that became so vivid and entertaining and soothing. Surrounded by the figures of those that he had became acquainted to becoming clowns that danced dressed up figures from movies and songs that were so entertaining it had to be a dream.

When he came back to, the forest was back in sight, so was the house, a sore reminder of something that felt so permanent now, so was the memory that he discarded with very little effort, the throb and the pain of making someone so loved lone again tugged at his heart. His heart was explosive. Ruining a wedding night. Ruining a complete future. A past that hadn't been touched by Wolf now forever changed and was wandering around searching for someone to fill that life generating gap he left behind. 

They needed a new psychic to help people 

He just hoped someone good would pick up the torch that was dropped.

Not Gus, he couldn't do it, he wasn't like him, he couldn't, he didn't have the heart, the strength, nor the fortitude to do it alone. 

The door opened then Drewisy blind folded him.

The blind fold was removed and then the lights came on. 

He was in the dark but not in another room with windows, instead he was right there up close and personal to the young woman. 

There rested a twelve year old girl alongside a blonde who was quite scared gazing around squinting into the bright light aimed at her face. Shawn could register the familiar eyes of the young girl that were brown,  he could some passing resemblance to Lassiter in her, a scenery that made him cry out in laughter at first, seeing, the wedding band on the older woman's hand. He recognized the woman  from long ago remembering her so clearly. The little girl reminded him of a lot of himself when he was a kid. 

The young girl's head whirred over toward the dark in a moment of surprise as the fear melted away then her gaze rested on to him.

"Uncle Shawn?"

He was part of the family rather or not he married him, his heart felt so full, having another teary eyed laugh, wheezing, leaning forward. 

"Shawn?" 

He lowered his head then lifted his attention up. 

"Not your Shawn Spencer." Wolf appeared, rapping his fingers on the young girl's shoulder then twirled her long pig tails. 

Shawn lowered his head as he had another cry then lowered his head and his eyes stung as the young girl looked over toward the figure in the complete dark. 

"Uncle Shawn, what did you and Gus get into?" 

"Shawn, answer her questions!"

He opened his mouth then threw his head back and lowered his head. 

"I said, not your Shawn Spencer." was the repeat as he cried without sound and lowered his head at the prospect of blasting the detective's life leaving a bigger void that was going to be harder to climb up. "All you should know, he reopened a case that he shouldn't have and everyone died as a result of it."

Shawn opened his mouth leaning forward but nothing escaped from his mouth as if he had lost his voice.

'Lovely contraption I got there, isn't it?" Wolf returned joining the side of the fake psychic clawing at the device that had clasped around his neck and felt heavy, cold, thick, strange, elaborate. 

"It isn't that great at all." Marlowe spoke up. 

The sides of his neck ached and his voice box was on fire.

'It's like something from the wild wild wildest west meets SAW meets 90s simplified futurist retro tech." was the commentary delivered by the young girl that  Shawn understood perfectly even though the last bit were redundant. 

"It prevents wearers from speaking," Shawn was bound to the chair by the neck. "Period."

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut at the sympathy that was being cast upon him. 

"What does he have to say about this?" Marlowe asked.

"All he has to say is sorry," he clasped the fake psychic's jaw then gave it a shake wearing a lop sided smile then faced him. "and it will never make up for the pain that your husband has to go through."

"He will find us and he will kill you." Was the promise made of a glare.

"End of story, nothing can be said, no apology, an invention invented before sentencing is announced or taken into custody." Tears stung the younger man's hazel eyes full of heartache. "Invented for liars and excuses since law enforcement was done with word smiths and the guilty refusing to accept their guilt."

"That is cruel on my uncle," was the rebutal.

"Even the victims."

"Do we look like victims?" The familiar ire of a  Lassiter on her face and voice. 

"There's nothing that you can say that can be of any comfort to his daughter..." then he slowly shifted his attention back over toward the young girl who was scrutinizing him from top to bottom. "or be directed to the chief."

Chief?

His hands lowered in surprise as his jaw fell facing the man

Lassiter was chief? 

His tears were falling fast finding a reason to smile closing his mouth and smiling. 

"Been that way for the last several years." was her reply, then tilted her head, seeing a question, then growing concerned, looking over toward her mother then back, her face falling, things clicking, twirling, becoming horrified. "My name is Lily Lassiter."

"Too bad about that." Wolf remarked.

"What have you done to an instance of my uncle?" was the question that was posed. 

"Variant." Wolf responded turning away from the fake psychic taking out a bat that had spikes and Shawn proceeded to scream and struggle against the chair seeing it being lifted then smacked against the palm of his hand. "It's a one time event in your life."

Marlowe looked up facing the man who slowly approached her then looked over toward Lily. 

"Close your eyes, baby." Marlowe requested. 

Lily looked away then faced Wolf and looked over seeing her uncle screaming at him and his face was so red in the dark. 

The words that he had said only a short while ago echoed in her mind: "he reopened a case that he shouldn't have and everyone died as a result of it." Of course he never knew her, he was plucked out of a time where she wasn't thought of, let alone decided on, created, with any help from surrogacy. The way that she was here, the way he looked at Marlowe, the way this strange fellow was torturing him, it pointed to her father and her uncle being a union. She stared at the man who was angry and scared and so upset.

She looked up toward her mother. 

"I love you so much, Lily Nora." Marlowe continued. "My sweet little baby girl," She faced her daughter's scared face,  then swallowed hard, "Close your eyes."

"Mom.. I'm scared..." Lily admitted.

"When you open them, your dad is going to be here and he is going to need you so much." Shoving down her tears, then faced the older man, who had helped so much. Responsible for helping her husband so well. "Shawn, thank you."

Screaming the same question over and over. 

WHY? WHY SHOULD YOU BE THANKFUL FOR DYING?

"I would have never met the love of my life if it weren't for you."

He screamed one big silent word in response in the heat of his burning rage. 

NOOOOOOOOOO

Then it was over in a dozen whacks and he was still screaming watching her be rendered unrecognizable in a graphic manner watching her beauty simply reduced to bone, blood, skin, and what not. Blood flying in the air over the sound of Marlowe's agonized shrieks. 

He struggled in the chair making the chair legs smack against the floor repeatedly. Loud smacks as the chair got closer and closer into the light being fueled by rage and determination to get closer enough to yank the bat out of his hand. He stopped once seeing it was over. How the man walked into the dark as Lily's eyes remained shut still screaming

Her brown eyes opened facing the older man who was still screaming, long, painted, stretching his hand out, joined by two tall muscular men. A hand reaching out for her mother then lowered seeing how lifeless that her figure was in the pale moonlight. A couple of latches were unlatched then he hung down making noise and screams buried his face into his fists, small broken, upset sobs, upset, then the chair was kicked back from beneath him and he was lifted up and dragged away. 

"Let my uncle's variant go! Let him go! You terrible bad awful excuse for a man! Let him live! Let him build a new life! You villainous cruel scumbag! Let him go!" There was a light from afar featuring the shadow figures vanishing into the light then the door closed. "LET HIM GO!"

The door to the warehouse opened a moment after over her screams shaking in the chair making it tremble in heartache and lowered her head and cried.  It hurt so much to see a loved one in such a horrible predicament. The horror of the multiverse was loud and apparent rather than the fun that could be had with it. Sobbing, thinking of so many horrible possibilities. Her father losing his friends and family except her to a zombie apocalypse. Phone calls with them going dead one by one over horror. Haunting. 

"Lily!" The chief cried from afar stepping in. 

Her uncle, well, healthy, emotionally unharmed, and her other uncle joined him by his side with their mouths hanging opening and horrified 

"Daddy!" Lily shrieked. 

Her father rushed over to her side then united her and hugged Lily. 

"I'm here, baby." he closed his eyes as the little girl cried as the men stepped in taking in the damage of the situation and saw the lifeless figure of her mother seated right there across from her daughter. "I am here, ssssshh, I'm here."

She opened her eyes facing her uncles who wore concern and a long stare equally. 

And she wailed at what she had. Her uncle had everything. Everything. And everyone save for her mother was still there around her, it should be reassuring comforting, but it, was so, absolutely sad. Being part of someone else's nightmare for a brief moment was a horrible thing. 

Her uncle squinted off into the distance seeing the blood trail then ran out of the door followed by Gus.

Chapter Text

O'Hara arrived to the building, without a partner.  The tall and looming building that had a fancy sign from across that belonged to the pharmaceutical related company. She closed the door behind her then walked into the building.

Her last partner was still in the hospital recovering from a shooting from earlier on a unrelated case bringing in a murderer. The man's status wasn't all that good. The doctor didn't expect that he would pull through it.

She shoved down the feelings that was brewing to the surface working on another case without him. She did that after Psych was banned and Shawn didn't work alongside her on cases. And Lassiter wasn't her partner and Gus didn't show up on crime scenes eating food. She cleared her throat arriving to the receptionist.

"I am here to see Mr Eold Wolf."

"Do you have an appointment?" Seraphetia asked.

O'Hara withdrew her badge revealing the golden shield.

"The shield has an appointment." Very corny. "Detective Juliet O'Hara."

The receptionist lifted the phone up then set it against the side of her ear.

"Mr Eold Wolf, you have a visitor. It is Detective O'Hara who wants to talk to you."

O'Hara lowered her gaze turning her attention off then looked at her finger observing that she hadn't removed the engagement ring. She had to return it to Henry.. no, it would be messed up. Beyond messed up. A jarring moment that everything which did not have sound reason or logic.

Having to tell him that there is a Shawn Spencer out there alive immediately after. A whirlwind of emotions that lashed out at him so sudden and abruptly like a confusing destructive tornado. It had to be given to Shawn. Personally and let him choose what to do with the engagement ring. The idea of turning him down on the spot after he got out of hell was a terrible image. No good awful one that broke his heart and her heart.

"Ask me again later and I might say yes." And she could imagine the radiant smile on his face and the tears in his hazel eyes that were full of joy,.glee, and so much familiar immaturity. Lively hazel eyes that had a soul in them housing a beating heart that thumped with character. She wiped her tears off with her sleeve.

O'Hara turned in the direction of the receptionist letting go of a sigh and teary eyes that began to fade clinging to faith that everything was going to turn out well. Faith in that burning ball of hope resting in her chest and burning height on her mind.

"Mr Wolf is waiting for you in his office, here is the directions."

A slip of paper and she was set.

"Thanks for the information."

A smile then rushing over to the elevator then walking in, pressing the 10th floor, then clasping her hands together. 

Her eyes drifted up toward the security camera then on toward the door as she relaxed and eased herself with a sure indisputable fact. 

Shawn was coming back into her life like a slow going bullet that had to be waited for to be hit and appreciate it except it wasn't deadly with the chaos that was it was bringing along for the ride over in her direction. A smile that steadied her with the sheer knowledge connected to it. She watched as a song echoed in the elevator that was playing lingered in the air by Kesha. She closed her eyes swaying herself to the song remembering how they went to a dance party once and danced to it. They practically killed it on the dance floor. 

The doors parted as she stopped humming to herself then opened her eyes and the memory was over as she jogged her way out of the room and went down the hallway. She sped through the building taking account of the generic interior of the business. Pharmaceutical related signs decorating the walls and company related events that were to be held that month. The month of August as the year was passing by at a rapid pace. Gus was expecting a baby in two months. The wedding was going to be held before the main event was set to happen. Scheduled to happen a week before the delivery.  October.

A whole world was preparing for the return of the most brilliant star in her life. She removed the engagement ring from her finger and held it looking at it for a long moment remembering the moment so well that he knelt down with Gus by his side asking her to marry him and Gus.  

The memory of the pharmaceutical salesman crying happy tears and her acceptance without anything flying in the way snatching their moment in a brisk moment. 

She put the ring into her breast pocket rushing on down the hallway and regarded the directions that had been written down for the game plan leading to the office. 

She came to a stop at the door then opened it and found the secretary reading a book who waved a hand and she walked on through the office then lifted her hand and knocked. 

"Come in." Wolf said. 

O'Hara opened the door entering the office that looked like a living room. Nicely carpetted, dangling portraits, a couch that Wolf was resting on, two chairs, and a single desk from across, lots and lots of dragon and eagle imagery. There was several paintings of wolves that were pretty among the collection. She held back a whistle getting the sense that he was a deeply obsessed man over these powerful creatures that had power and strength over smaller things. 

There was a glowing red orb from across resting on a platform of some kind that cradled it so gently generating wing sounds. Weird. Probably some fan created merchandise that celebrated the film. A glass case with a small audio panel that gave the immense power vibes due to the intensity.

"Thank you for arranging time in your day for this meeting so suddenly, Mr Wolf..." O'Hara started to thank. 

"Really it's no big deal, we're not due to have another meeting in an a hour." Wolf reassured. 

He was seated on the couch lowering his ear buds and his phone on to the table withdrawing the face mask setting it aside on to the table.

"This is a really well decorated office..."

"I love the first two Dragonhearts." He set aside a mug of hot chocolate on the table alongside a collection of fudge and well cut peanut butter and jelly on a silver tray. 

"Lovely replicas of some from the movies." O'Hara remarked 

"The dragon's heart is the most purist and beautiful thing of all." Wolf said 

He gazed up toward her wearing a smile that could haunt a victim in their nightmares, perfect charming smile shed during a slasher film where it was made a horrible reveal before the movie concluded. She wondered to herself how Scream would parody that. Or the scary movie franchise. Probably comically. 

"It is." O'Hara agreed. 

Wolf gazed over toward the prop then back toward her. 

"Welcome to my office, what may this visit be about?"  Wolf asked. 

"It's about Cab'ret Cabinnet." O'Hara began to explain to him. "he has been found dead on a welfare check." Wolf leaned back as he faced her with a sharp inhale. "And tortured to death."

Wolf's head lifted up in shock as his jaw hung there. 

"Murdered?" Wolf asked. "Over what?"

"We just started the investigation." O'Hara said. 

"You mean it hasn't even started." Wolf leaned forward clasping his hands.

"I questioned his parents... he didn't have any friends, but he was very loyal to you." O'Hara said. "Said you helped him clean up, supported him, listened to him, was with him when he got high, going above and beyond, that had to be hard on the heart."

Wolf got up then approached the window and gazed out facing the city looking down the city limits. 

"He did the same for me." Wolf replied, calmly. "So the debt had to be repaid." The older man had a shaky breath then he looked over toward her. "I..." he opened and closed his mouth. "He was my security detail."

"Why do you need a security detail?" O'Hara asked. 

"Ran down a business a few years ago." Wolf rubbed his face lowering his head then up.

O'Hara looked at him in sympathy.

"What was the name of the business?"

"It was a social media website,"

"A social media website?"

"Could've been worth billions,"

"Worth billions."

"It was used widely world wide by millions!"

"What was the website called?"

"Dackka."

"I never used it."

"Easing the user base into paying, making every part of it to be paid, over curse of months, slowly, squeezing money out of their wallets, paid handsomely for the bugs to be fixed, deleted dead accounts, accounts that were mature were gone, accounts with the queer community, have to think of the kids, right? Can't let them see that."

O'hara could see so many errors.

"and instead, everyone flushed away, deleting accounts, subscriptions cancelled, yeah, I realized I made a terrible mistake trying to look good and worth partnering with due to being squeaky clean. It was a stupid series of decisions, absolutely abhorrent," His finger tapping against his chest as he picked up a piece of fudge and eating piece by piece during his ranting. "and I own them alone."

O'Hara agreed in nod of the older man's continuous words watching him pause in his tracks.

"Had to get a lot of money to start it, making promises, spending, spending, and spending just building the damn thing!"

He became quiet looking aside folding his arms.

"I think it has a lot to do with that," He turned and faced her. "I was going through hard times, my wife had left me, my dog had died, as did my dog, our kids hated me and left the nest," he paced around the room as he proceeded to laugh then turned and faced her. "Said that I changed too much."

"Russia going that far?" O'Hara gawked at  the reveal then lifted her eyebrows, shaking her head, quite taken back, swallowing it all quite hard and fast at the news. "After how many years?"

"Hmm... consider it five years." He looked over toward her spotting the band around her finger. "Divorcee?"

"Ex-fiance." O'Hara replied, looking down and up.

"Broken engagement is a terrible thing..." Wolf remarked.

"He's been missing these last three years." She looked down toward her finger that still had the mark. "only just... recently gotten information that he may still be alive," she wore a smile that was so beautiful. "But he won't be the same man as before. That's what ex-fiance stands for."

He sat back down on the couch and looked at her for a moment clasping his hands together. 

"Shawn Spencer?" Wolf remarked.

O'Hara looked up with a nod.

"That's the one." O'Hara replied. 

"Three years being absent," Wolf acknowledged. "this long, no word what he was up to and expecting everyone around him to be okay..."

"He couldn't talk about the case," O'Hara recalled. "He couldn't work the department," a sniffle with her sleeve then inhaling and exhaling. "The chief is feeling the brunt of it because he is the one who made sure of it."

"Did he say anything other than about it before he left?" Wolf asked, concerned. 

"He was job hunting." O'Hara wiped a tear off her eye then looked aside and swallowed hard. "At least, I thought so..."

"That is awful unable to have talked about it let alone to to his partner..."

She looked aside remembering the pain and confusion finding Shawn absent. A empty side of the bed that was the first of many as it dawned on her something went terribly wrong.

"turned out, he was involved in another case with my ex-partner. Missing person's case that they were both digging up as it turned out in the end. Terrorizing a family for certain things that happened earlier."

"A terrible bit of news being abducted in the case..." 

"And somewhere in that chaos, he and another guy met, identical, got mistaken for another by the guy, and then he was snatched by another person," She squeezed her eyes shut, clasping the fabric on her knees, fighting back tears. "it's all really messy."

He patted on the younger woman's back. 

"Would you like a drink?" was the offer issued. 

"No thanks." O'Hara declined, getting up.  "i should be the one asking questions."

"I have no idea about his personal life, if you asked Douglas Drewisy and Brent Edfin, they might be able to get you a bit further in the case." was the reply that he gave looking up in concern. "Hope you see him soon."

"My real hope is that he shows up after we get rid of the man who killed his double." O'Hara was blunt as she faced him with her eyes stung. "If he showed up, it's like waiting for a bomb to go off. And even if they don't show up to try and finish him."

Wolf handed her a napkin with a small mound full of fudge then set it on to the counter beside her. 

"You would run after him in the thicket of fear and rescue him despite that looming cloud of terror in the distance." Wolf remarked facing the detective for a long awful moment that lingered. "No one could blame for taking a move as that."

"Even if he's different; he's still Shawn Spencer." O'Hara looked up toward him. 

"I get it." Wolf reassured shaking his hand as she withdrew a piece of fudge from the offered mound and proceeded to eat it. "Feel the same about my brother. Seeing him come back into my life despite all that happened three years ago."

"What happened to him?"

"Multiple cars involved in the accident wrecked his car,"

"Oh my god." O'Hara gasped, then looked at him in sympathy. 

"Maimed him like he were a perfect slab of meat that was waiting to be painted, and killed him." Wolf replied looking up toward her, darkly. "He was the guy you would run into a forest and scream in grief."

"Perfectly imaginable." O'Hara reassured.

"I was there," he continued looking aside and back picking up a piece of fudge then started eating it. "when it happened," he held the fudge up talking between bites resting his hand on his knee. "I was beside him," he remembered the way the window shattered and the screeches of metal and tires squealing. "If I could spend more time with him..."

O'Hara gazed on thinking about the man that she let go and all she wanted to say to him.

"the accident happening all over again," Wolf continued to talk in his misery. "and losing him," his voice so soft and low. "I would take it and go through the pain all over just to tell him how much I loved him and miss him."

Her eyes gazed over toward him. 

"To his confusion." O'Hara replied. 

Wolf's nod was short and grave in response to the remark.

"Even if my comments cause the accident to happen again."

He looked ahead clasping his hands remembering discovering the forest in his grief, his brother crying out in pain, aching, bloody, hurt, and there was nothing that he could do to tend to the wound and help him. Gruesome being taken away, panicking, scared, pleading for help, trapped beneath a piece of equipment unable to help his brother,  screaming how much he loved him, then being freed, resting, and being given the call that he was gone.  Finding him after a time and telling him how much he loved him, missed him, and the accident happened again.

Going through it here here just to make the scene including the story after snatching the fake psychic. Getting to spend maybe an hour alongside his brother and see him telling him all that he had been through.

"I love you, and miss you, so, so, so much."

His brother, Folfe, looking back and forth, frowning, a familiar face, so concerned,  

"Eold, this is the freakiest thing ever." Folfe said. "Say sike." Gazing back and forth quite displeased. "Or it's a joke." Looking up and down. "Messing with a psychic--"

"He's not a real psychic." Wolf complained. 

"It is still a terrible idea!"  Folfe struck back. 

"I just got done telling you how he confessssed!" wolf whined. 

"It is still a big ugly horrible idea." Folfe shot back. 

"Why not?" Wolf asked, his pitch but a whine. 

"Because for starters, he's part of the police department rooster." Folfe looked over toward his younger brother and pausing at him "This is still freaky and this discussion of your personal entertaining twisted vivid daydream has to end before one us gets more than necessary!"

Wolf looked at him with such love for his brother between tears. 

"Good-bye." Wolf replied. 

 

"If it had been my fiance..." O'Hara said.

"Replace him for another if his death was that avoidable." Wolf remarked in mirth. 

"Just that predictable." O'Hara got up snatching the fudge as he stood up to his feet. "Thank you, really, it's been informative." She faced him for a moment. "If you remember anything," she took out her card and handed it over. "My number is right here."

She turned away then proceeded to leave the office with the office closing behind her. 

The card flew into the air then fell into the trash can with the least force against it effortlessly.

Wolf turned away from the door rubbing his face gazing down toward his feet thinking long and hard as he gazed down. Cab'ret had to have said that Shawn was alive to the wrong person and the person who got wind tried to get  his whereabouts out of him. He inhaled, pressing the edge of his fist against his mouth having an inhale then he exhaled and lowered his shoulders. Lowering his hand in the process gazing on toward the city. 

His little waiting game for this foe to be taken down was still on going.  

Still had his fun to toy with the fake psychic. 

He had faith in the department. 

Chapter Text

Two days passed from the emotional cataclysm.

His appetite had returned with a loud roar.

Satisfying it came with remarkable was when it pertained to the well stocked kitchen downstairs. Three years ripped from the outside world with only the cooking channel and a cook book to aid him without Gus there. Preparing yuck came with ease: eggs, sausage, potatoes, and lots of cheese. It was hard to start cooking three years ago. All he wanted to do was crying and wailing 

Shawn sniffled on the sectional hiccuping and stung by being forced to participate. Something enormously agonizing with that in his shoulder raising hell and bringing it down upon them all that ached and hurt the heart. Wolf was stung by the events of last night. Shawn had cried himself to sleep in bed and had a cold shower that morning.

Looking inside so bothered by his role in the making of his various counterparts. Was he going to be a  private detective alongside Gus after what had been undone? The man who provided advice after being a listening ear to the status of the ongoing cases. So much uncertainty about the life that was ruined so thoroughly in various different ways. Small but significant.

Points had been made by his captor. Without doing it at all. He could simply kill his dad in this world and just replacing with a identical version of him from a similar continuity. The only person aware of the crime would be Shawn. A personally made  screwed up situation so much worse as a thriving nightmare. 

His dad was alive and well and still there. He was eating dinner by now. About to take a manly bath with bubbles in it and squeaky yellow ducks. Absurd but Henry Spencer in whole that perfectly fit him to a tea. What kind of man was Shawn to remove him from the narrative? He was still there and that made it worse.

The television was off with his arms folded looking down toward the floor mulling it over with his feet stacked together on the sectional with the USA channel on playing Classic SVU era. Stabler and Benson working together with the team taking down heinous criminals. There was something comforting about it all seeing victims having heros who could be there and could attempt a feasible rescue.

The door to the basement opened with a creak then Shawn lifted up facing the wide staircase of the basement.

His heart racing at the possibility of Gus popping out in the flesh alongside aging versions of Lassiter and O'Hara.

Drewisy descended alongside another man that Shawn recognized from three years ago that wasn't Dustin nor Edfin. Nor any of the security detail that flanked the house and the corporate executive. A new face. Something happened to one of the men.

"No! No! No, not again!" Shawn dragged himself off the sectional then went to the corner of the room.  "No, no, no way, " throwing his hand and shaking his head quit defiant and upset. "I have watched my dad enough times to be scarred from coming out of here!"

Drewisy and Grayold went over to the fake psychic. He lifted the iron ball by the chain and swung it at Grayold knocking him down summoning a loud cry out  and struck down Drewisy a moment after. Shawn turned his attention toward the men swinging the dense iron ball in a circle spinning it in the air then knocked down Grayold a second time.

A flying fist knocked him down to the ground sinking into the corner blacking out from there.

He came back with his cheek stinging and his eye was sore. He wouldn't be surprised if there was going to be some pronounced swelling. Perhaps an orbital fracture What was he hit with? A book?

His head was hung as he gazed back and forth taking on the security detail.

"What happened to Cab'ret?" 

"He quit." Wolf stared back down.

"You mean murdered." Shawn said. "No one quits you, at least willingly round here! They are so loyal to you."

Wolf sharpened a blade with a long spinning circular rock that sent some sparks in the air.

"We have some exceptions." Wolf said

He put the blade into the parcel made of instruments and cloth.

"He worshipped the ground you stand on!" Shawn retorted. "Is quitting a stand in for death around here?"

"This isn't a family unit." Wolf replied.

"You don't quit family." Shawn replied.

"Oooh." Laughter rolled off the shoulders of the businessman. "Wrong genre savvy, Shawn Spencer."

"Who are you killing today? Dad and then mom?"

"Stop giving me ideas for one single little minute. Or I will have my men duck tape you the next time they set the events in motion."

"Then what do you have me out of the basement for?"

"I am going to kill your associate Burton Guster as a teen, then his sister, and his brother, then his parents, but not in that peculiar order."

"No, no, no, no!"

'Then your dad

"You can't do that!"

"I can, and then your mother and then your uncle...."

"NO!"

"And throw your teenage self out there back--"

"Nnnoooo!"

"---into that world to die a very long soul crushing death that makes your time in my place like cheese cake."

"It will destroy him!"

"Exactly what this endeavor is intended to do exactly that."

"Does this have anything to do with one of your men being murdered?"

"Not everything is about you!"

"Did swing at them."

"So narcissistic." 

"That is a heavy iron ball!"

"Did it crack and break their heads severely?" He motioned toward the men then the fake psychic gazed aside seeing that they were only bandaged up then scowled facing him. "Are they dead? No?" His hands were linked behind his back looming over the thoughtful figure, smirking.  "Case closed."

He turned away facing the forest then took a single step forward.

"Kill me on my honeymoon with Juliet O'Hara after over a decade!" Shawn suggested. 

He paused there for a moment thinking it over. 

"Finally getting married after over a decade." Wolf looked aside at the thought.

"It can be set at Norway! Or Denmark! Or Ireland! Or Scotland! Gus and his fiancee will be there too in the same hotel!"

"Oh.." a low laugh erupted from the throat of the CEO who turned toward him. "You are that desperate..."

"Killing Gus as a teen is the worst thing you can do!"

"To buy them time," Wolf continued the line of thought. "to have loved,  lived, and suffered by your side. To have gone gray together."

Shawn was shaking his head between tears.

"Pleeeeeeaaaaaase..." Shawn plead lifting his head up as a single tear fell. 

All he could think of was the moments that were already stolen by Wolf.

Fist bumps until they were gray,  Gus making Shawn so proud, running the business having their delight running circles around criminals, getting beard and goatee respectively, being in each other's orbit till natural causes ripped them apart if only briefly. Stealing more moments that stretched back further into their lives and erasing all the adventures. Solving cases, being kind, being the top of their ham, and enjoying it all together.

All the suck it's that were stolen. All the chances of them drifting apart naturally consumed by things in their lives, Henry had tried to get that into his skull that one day they wouldn't be talking everyday. Nor spending time together hanging out outside the department. That their lives would forever change and nothing would be the same.

Henry tried to do a lot things preparing Shawn for a future as a detective. Shawn remembered.

"Being begged to grant him mercy by the party responsible for his numerous deaths..".Amusement decorated his voice. "Therefore, its being done anyway."

Shawn was blindfolded starting to scream at the top of his voice and thrash and kick.

He was hauled through the forest throwing a fit. Screaming in outrage. Knocking aside one of the men against a tree and struck another down with his fist.

A loud smack knocked him down to the grass landing with an thump.

Chapter Text

Curity attended the dome event with the stars.

His favorite activity that took him away from the pressing sound of the psychic's laughter when it came to something amusing. There was hardly anything to joke about stars. Stars were silent giant balls of beauty that twinkled in the night against the black canvas. Stars held so much meaning incorporated in poems and tales such as Dragonheart that he recognized as having only one entry and it was done.

The event was over then he got up to his feet and left the room finding a crows of his men who were there waiting for him.

"What is our problem, now?"

"The police were right behind us when we left Cabinnet there to die." Bermont replied.

"Like just parking in, Rudolph." Airry added 

Curity stepped forward in ease as his eyebrows lifted wearing frustration and fear.

"Are you telling me that they have a genuine psychic to their disposal this time around?" Concern etched into the voice of the man.

The four men exchanged a glance with one another then nodded in response to the question.

"This is great." Curity hung his head then paced around combing through his hair gazing down on annoyance.."Just great."

Curity paced through the building tagged along by the four men.

"We get nothing from the blabber who claims he knows the man who sent out that hideous prank and refuses to simply out him after everything that was done to him!"

Walking out of the building clenching his hands.

"Protecting his life over his own!"

He let out a frustrated noise.

"would admire it if..."

"If what, Rudolph?" Airry asked. 

"This didn't make it sick to my stomach that so many people on the news and YouTube and everywhere believe this simple prank!"

The men came to a half at the car.

"It is barbaric and it is not even that funny anymore!" He stretched his arms out in a moment of anger that was expressed then hurrying open the door and sliding in to the car. "Got a whole big of explosive motive," he rolled down the window then extended his fist out. " to give the man behind this entire operation a piece of my fist!"

The men exchanged a worrisome gaze.

"So... Uh.." Bermont started. 

"I am going to set the record straight on the news that he is dead!"

"Dead as meat, Rudolph?" Airry asked.

"Dead as soft fatty lunch meat! Dead as a TOY!" Watching the fierce anger rise. "and I will just prove it by sending the cold finger with the ring on it tomorrow!"

The men exchanged glances among the other at the problem that was solved.

Curity drove off from the parking lot grumbling curse words like one of the wet bandits.

Gogolack and Molly watched through a live fire of the man behind pain and the waiting game for Shawn to reappear. They had spent significant time waiting for him to be spotted by cameras. A simple loud ding summoned their attention in the middle of a Babylon 5 rewatch.

They watched him vanish into the forest thirty minutes later that wasn't the crime scene.

Gogolack leaned back into the seat then looked over toward Molly.

"We need to sit on this." Molly said.

"Better we need to Shawn and Gus to investigate it!"

"That is a 0% chance of that ever happening." Molly said.

"It's not like we can find retire detective but it's still on the street and want to do some investigating." Gogolack said.

"How many detectives are still around even after a decade or less than retired recently?"

"Or long ago."

He leaned forward typing into the keyboard setting up another program that did all the searching.

They waited there watching the program as it worked and came up with a handful of names and the police files which were very extensive. Good long careers with some health issues except for perhaps less than ten that was still in the city. One of them was Henry Spencer. Big sigh of relief was had.

There were options to browse through when it came to Shawn that was not Henry.

"We need to make sure that he comes to there regularly enough that it's not a wild goose chase too." Gogolack said

"Can someone wait that long?" Molly asked

"He has been waiting for 2 years to come back.." Gogolack replied.

"Two long years." Molly repeated in sympathy.

Gogolack rubbed his hands together facing the screen.

"We need to be thorough for any any retired detective in that general direction." Gogolack added.

"Whether or not it is Don Peters and Floyd Boone." Molly replied in agreement facing the screen. 

Gogolack rubbed his chest leaning back into the chair shaking his head in the middle of a very unsettling situation.

He could easily end it all but standing in that message on the man's phone asking him to pay a visit to the place. One of the men on the list with the hefty payment that well paid them for so service and any potential medical bills for potential injuries  doing the investigation. It was quiet in the room mulling it over.

His heart ached being this part of the investigation being able to help but not quite there in the terms of the investigation where it mattered. He was like the additional eyes of the law that is waking several laws in the process in that fact and in that matter like the pair did when it came to the alien investigation. Investigation that Shawn and Gus was so invested in seeing through but mostly was Gus. He moved it so falling when it came to the pharmacy to stay with the man and subsequently needing to repair the reputation. 

Molly gently will decide who soda then he looked up rubbing his lips and his face lowering down onto the screen.

Being in this position of power was enormous and yet and so unsettling and quite upsetting. 

They could change the world of their own in just a few moments back making a guess that as a hazardous one at best.

He just made a program that tracked movements then turned the computer off and slid back the chair.

"Come on, honey .." bye took her hands giving them a squeeze. "let's go watch Londo succeed in getting the Centauri out from occupying Narn and redeem himself before G'Kar."

Molly looked so glowing and angelic with that attractive smile.

"I love you, Dennis Gogolack."

Their foreheads touching wearing matching smiles and their noses in line

"You even harder."

The pair walked off from the silent computer with giant combined screens side by silent.

Hopeful and patient that this time taking the weed out by the root where it was planted would make a sunflower turn and show a sweet face again. A jarring image but the metaphor was all there. The couple weren't perfect with their metaphors when being literal.

Chapter Text

Gus entered the house for the first time that morning after school had ended that day rocking a stylish sweater vest and a equally as colorful tucked in shirt beneath it and the most impressive afro in the entire world. He slid the backpack on to the couch. Any ordinary day in the year 2026 that was colorful and chaotic with the way that politics had embedded into his every day life at school. 

Coming home at 1:35, coming out of a school walk out in protest of the world that was going on around him and he made his voice heard as did Shawn who had skid out stealing the driver's ed car. 

"Burton!" His father shrieked.

"Baby, run!" Winnie shrieked. 

Gus turned his attention to his side, perplexed.

"Gus, go!"  an older man's voice shouted. "

He was immediately hit with a loud whack colliding to the floor landing there on the floor. 

When he opened his eyes, he was aware that he was in a chair heavily restrained. The blinds were down and set and closed for that matter that made peeping in a impossible discussion. His head was pounding and throbbing as the light pouring in stung his eyes.

He saw a man who looked awfully familiar. Gus saw the familiar set of eyes, eyebrows, that familiar nose, and familiar mouth. All aged easily over nearly twenty years. A man screaming a single word looking off toward the man who weighed his method of torturing the fake psychic.

"Shawn?" Gus asked.

"No!" A voice was well aged and anger and desperation struggling in his binds. "No! No! No! No!"

"Hmmm... I could use this on your father instead with your teenager self the next visit before your mother left him." He looked over the fake psychic bearing a smirk. "How about it, Shawn?" 

Shawn lowered his head as his weeping became silent.and his eyes were squeezed shut.

"Just STOP, Mr Wolf!" Shawn cried.

"You are still pretending to be a psychic?" Gus asked, incredulously. "Almost twenty years later!"

Shawn lowered his head in-between his weeping.

"I.. I.. I can't..I can't..I haven't done...that.. since you died three years ago!"

He wore the years so hard and suffering so well.

"Knew the Spencer boy was too dirty!"

"William Guster, watch your mouth!" Winnie shouted back at him.

Shawn looked up facing the man for a short moment,  grimacing, shaking his head between sobs then resumed crying as heavily as before.

"He got us all into trouble! Bad trouble!" Was the reply that he gave.

"Please don't kill them all!" A blubbering upset mess that was begging. "let them live, just kill teenage me, they don't need me on their lives, don't, please!"

William Guster was floored at how broken the man was as he gazed toward Winnie in a moment of profound horror as it became obvious. Gus's older siblings were silent and scared gazing back and forth. Joy staring at the man heartbroken and scared. Gus's brother Austin looking at him in resentment.

"Did we become superheroes or something that made this happen?" Gus asked, calmly.

"Detectives." Wolf answered walking around the family weighing who to start shooting down taking delight in their baking fear. "Nothing like Tap-man or Psych-man."

Shawn screamed at the top of his lungs at first that filled the entire room full of outrage and horror as he, knew, knew, knew how he was aware of their stint running around dressed as superheros. 

"You did not go there and make Lassiter watch them be unmasked!" Shawn roared.

Wolf gazed over toward the fake psychic wearing a grin then let out a big amused laugh.

"That was more entertaining even so making the usual announcement in that specific continuity about being a fake psychic than killing your fiance." Wolf said.

"Who did you kill?" Shawn asked.

"I knew the Spencer boy was holding back on us."

Winnie and William Guster looked at their frightened son.

"He really asked for it." Wolf explained walking around the house in the middle of his rambling. "Claiming he was responsible." Shawn stomped lowering his head as his shriek had no sound. "He should go down for it." Watching the fake psychic so upset. "His entire career was built off your involvement."

"Not all of it!"

"Don't need to repeat yourself."

"He was a good detective!"

"Could have proved at any time easily that you were a fake."

"Were we good at what we did?" The teenage Burton Guster asked 

"Very." Wolf looked over in a moment of profound pity. "Sent me all the way to court then to jail."

"If you went to jail then you deserved to be there." Gus replied.

"Losing to a fake psychic sucks."  Wolf lifted the gun.

Shawn was boiling in rage as he screamed drawing the attention of the murderer.

"Plleeeaaase, stop!"

"You are just begging to save teenage Shawn Spencer from being broken beyond repair."

Shawn looked aside at being caught then faced the older man.

"Kill teenage me and spare them!" Shawn plead. "Please, pllleaaaassee."

William Guster was the first to be shot straight,  over his pleas, begging, and Shawn screamed on but his screams were dwarfed by their shrieks. He lowered his head as his sobbing became smaller. Spraying the living room on their blood.

One by one they were slaughtered leaving only Gus who was like a rock. He didn't look scared or whimpering. Putting on his game face facing a foe shoving down the slightest of a scared whimper. Wolf walked around the figure making the moment stretch on far longer.

"A teenager not crying and scared of oncoming death, the one and only, Burton Guster, normally the opposite in the future." Curiosity rested in the man's green eyes cast upon him. "Always..." He knelt down to his level. "what changed?"

Guster looked on toward Shawn who was visibly rocked, a look was exchanged, the older man's jaw fell, seeing bravery in his eyes, seeing inner strength flickering to the surface, then faced Wolf wearing resilience and determination. 

"A bad guy torturing a poor man's heart doesn't deserve that!" the teenager started to raise his voice and lean forward him. "A little, tiny, small, man." Looking at him in disgust. "What is owed is pity and disgust." looking  up and down as Shawn starting to cry again. "Could have a good man that unexpectedly brought brought a missing teenager -- who is very--- dead back! All I see is a wanna be super villain that Psych-man and Tap-man can take down together with such remarkable ease that your career is taken down so easily!"

"In my defense, actual superheros really did make it difficult so I had to leave that one be because Psych-man saw my every move and called me the smallest piece of garbage in the entire world."

"Garbage is tame." was the reply as the teenager looked back clicking his tongue and gazed up. "A dead squished ugly bug that stinks fits a man of this standing."

Wolf lowered his head then had a sigh.

"It's because Shawn is here."  Wolf sighed. 

Then Wolf did the deed. Multiple times. Discharging the entire gun into him.

"Nmnnnnnnnnmooooooóoooooo!"

Gus  slumped there becoming silent as the chair itself. Still. His bullet wounds steaming in a way that smoke was coming over his figure and the air was so still as the scene settled into place. Wolf walked out of scene.

"GUUUUUUSSSS!"

Another untied the remains dropping them to the floor and removed the chairs. Dustin untied the fake psychic and stepped back.

Shawn stumbled to his feet then bolted over towards the teenager's figure then fell over and held him against his chest and mourned him. A high pitch girly wail echoed through the apartment for a long time. The emotional pain of taking his best friend away from a kid who needed him there was a step too far. His heart ached so loud and pronounced it could be heard from a good distance. 

He lowered the teenager who was having the death rattle as he cradled the side of his face gazing down remembering those words that he shared when Mr Yang was about to kill them. 

This was so much worse than that. 

"... Regret every day taking a good man out of a boring, mundane, dull making office job selling pills, Gus." He found his voice again that was small and hoarse rocking himself back and forth looking over. "Didn't deserve this.. I did this... I did this!"

He lowered his head as his frame was wrecked by more sobs. 

There was the gun left discarded that he carefully picked up and stared at feeling the heavy weight it still held. Ominous, thick, significant, holding the gun getting his fingers on the trigger through his tears. He chucked aside the gun to the floor with a sob as he lowered his head holding the little life that was fading his arms. He looked up cradling the teenager's head quite stricken. 

The door opened across from Shawn pilling light into the nightmare where he held a bleeding teenager in his arms. 

The beat cops hauled him off and paramedics arrived to the scene shortly over his ugly feminine twisted aching wailing. 

Henry returned to the department after a day of chasing leads and catching numerous bad guys on several cases that were significantly easy to catch. His son was no where to be seen as usual since becoming a teenager and having better things to do. He had a drive to make after this that involved searching and tracking down someone who was rebelling so hard. 

The familiar black muscular man stepped in the way then put a hand on his chest stopping the detective right in his tracks staring at him and inhaled. 

"Where is Shawn?" Boone asked. 

"Driving around with the stolen driver's ed car, probably."

Boone lowered his hand flanked by Peters. 

"It's the Gusters." Peters replied. 

Henry's jaw slightly fell staring right at them.

"What happened to them?" His face was etched in concern. 

"They've been murdered," Boone said.

"But the youngest is in the hospital and the surgeons there are fighting like hell to save him." Peters replied. 

"We got the guy in interrogation." He turned toward the department then back facing the detective. "Big lot of mess. Real mess." His eyebrows lifted swaying his hand talking about the state of the man. "Forensics did their thing with him. Finger prints were found on the gun."

Henry sat down on to the car then gazed up facing Peters and Bone gazing down upon him wearing the same look. 

"Did he happen to say... why?" Henry asked. 

Peters gently shook his head with a shrug. 

"He's not mentally all that well." Peters said.

"So a nut case." Henry replied.

"We didn't need to press him to make a confession, it was all spontaneous before we could say a word!" Peters remarked quite disturbed by the memory. "Which stinks a whole bunch in this investigation." 

"The twisted thing about him is that we made calls to some asylums and.." boone proceeded to explain to the man. "no one has recently escaped." 

"Get this, he has a ankle cuff on his left ankle."  Peters said. 

"So someone's mentally ill loved one escaped from the basement and no one has come to the police department to file a missing person's file." Henry summarized.

Peters and Boone exchanged a glance between one another then faced the detective.

"That's about it." Peters said. 

"I need to see him and give him a piece of my mind." Henry said. "Before going home and telling Shawn.." He lowered his gaze, folding his arms, inhaling, then exhaling. "I rather make that drive knowing if Guster is still here."

"The man is in no condition to talk." Boone protested 

"Then why is he still in interrogation?" Henry asked. 

"We're waiting to calm him down before doing that." Peters explained, gently holding his hand out for the detective briefly closing his eyes. "It is genuinely the most upsetting scene. It's like..."

"What?" Henry's eyes gazed back and forth between the two men. "What is it like?"

"A guilty man who just watched something horrible happen and left behind." Boone replied. 

"I have to face the bastard responsible for a family annihilation." Henry said.  "For Shawn."

Henry brushed past the men who turned and faced him but stalked after him up the stairs leading into the building tagging behind him. They both had a glance and a shake of their heads, bracing themselves for a repeat of last time, then turning their attention back facing the inside of the station hurrying along behind the man. Heading right up then hurrying over to interrogation just to watch from the other room. 

Henry opened the door then turned and closed the door facing the man responsible for the bloodshed. 

"Who are you. How did you come about to breaking in and entering the Guster's house with a gun? Did you get let in by them and misuse their trust." Henry slid the chair back then sat down and faced the responsible party who had a nicely large tied man bun supported by a scrunchy.   "Who let you in."

The responsible party was looming away from the table unable to look at the man who was now roughly his age covering his face in shame and despair and pain with his chest aching. His crying just started all over again. 

"What is your story?"

The question was enough to make him inhale lifting his head up with his hands buried in his face as sweet gibberish escaped that was a bit of a whine and thoroughly broken like being dragged through a nightmare.

"You're not man enough to talk about your crime, are you." Henry hit for the ego, the jugular. 

Henry with hair. Henry in a nice suit seated across from him. Henry was seated there waiting for him to speak as much as the detectives who had gathered there. 

"I..." Shawn started to open his mouth lowering his hands looking aside away from Henry trying to find the right words. "I..." He turned toward Henry. "I am the biggest disappointment that you ever spawned," Bitterly, sharply, with a familiar hash ring to it with a head waggle. "dad."

Henry stared at the face that was so familiar but aged. 

"That's not a story, scum bag."

Shawn wiped his face. 

"That's really all you need to know."

"There's a difference between a lie and believing the lie," Henry's words held logic and reason. "you're lying."

Shawn sniffled with a sob looking up toward him looking hurt.

"I need the full picture when and how you met the Gusters, when you decided to murder them, why, and how you got that weapon."

"I met Gus when i was in pre-school."

"That's a lie."

"I guess I killed him when I first met him."

"That is another lie."

Shawn rubbed his mouth then back facing him and smiled, torn, shattered, heartbroken. He started laughing, leaning back, facing the man who wore the skepticism of a walrus (was that even applicable?) then flipped the table and sat back down facing the famed detective.  He just stared at him for a long moment. He combed through his hair looking away then back.

Henry was calm and staring at the man who was holding back immense rage.  Keeping back key information. Shawn remained there facing him for a long moment wearing all the signs of grief. He removed a small box that hadn't been tainted by blood then flipped it open, gazing down, smiling, looking at it, remembering better times, times that grounded him down through the fog of tears and heartache. He looked up wiping the last of his tears gazing up toward the ceiling with a sniffle then flipped the box close and put it back into his pocket. 

"I know.. that... Madeleine Spencer... left you..." Going for the personal spot.

"Who told you that?"

"She did."

"When."

"Awhile ago."

"Before she left Santa Barbara."

"Before she left the great Babs." Shawn replied, then brought the table back over and set it right. "I look like your son, don't I?" He wore a pleasant smile facing him. "Stunning resemblance, isn't it?"

His hands were clasped together wearing a smile facing him as Henry remembered when his son used to smile at him like that, flickering between the two images, almost an exact match, almost, hair cuts different, facial hair, wearing tight fighting clothes, not a plaid, a heavily stained purple hoody that was dark, his sleeves rolled up, facing him. Looking at Henry as if he knew him. 

"That is a insane claim." Henry hissed. 

"That I am your son from another....." he swayed his hand in the air lowering his head searching for the word.

"You and my wife were a thing eighteen years ago!"

Shawn burst out laughing at the remarkm

"Universe?" Facing the man who's face didn't change. "Timeline?" Even lost as Henry was who was stifling back laughter at the nature of the comments. "Dimension?"

Henry burst out laughing then got up to his feet. 

"You are sick." Henry's words carried drips of amusement even cackled at it. "this is really entertaining but," There was a knock at the door then Henry turned and faced the window that was silent then faced him. "I am in no mood for being entertained," standing up and approaching the window. "save that for your sentencing."

Shawn gazed aside then back. 

"The next time that we meet, you'll be tied to a chair," Shawn began making him halt in his tracks. "beside Shawn, tied up, alongside mom, and uncle Jack, in front of a red head, at a backyard, I will be on the patio tied up, and most surely, all of you are going to die because of a case that I should have NEVER reopened!"

Henry paused gripping the knob at the strange series of words that were so utterly specific.

"You were on my ass after I told you what I did at the party, really on it, more than usual, and said," Shawn looked aside, pressing his lips together, trying to remember. "what was it," then he laughed and faced Henry. "you made a battle cry, see it through, or you're a very enormous big pathetic disappointment."

Henry turned in the direction of the younger man bearing a frown and tilting his head to the side. 

"All I see and hear is a sick man who needs help." Henry said. 

"I'm sorry," Shawn lowered his gaze then looked down as Henry opened the door pausing at the apology.

"That's the truth." Henry turned toward him. "But you're not forgiven." Shaking his head in disappointment at the younger man who was notably too stung about it. "That is a wholly egregious act taking away lives like that."

Shawn sharply inhaled then turned in the direction of the detective letting out the sting in a single breath. 

"It's just really hard seeing you die for the fourth time in a row.." then he frowned, furrowing his eyebrows, then gazed aside, while the detective left the room and closed the door behind him. "Or..." rubbing his chin thinking it over. "maybe the fifth... Who knows, it always has the same effect these days and it always hurts the heart." Shawn lowered his voice that had so much hurt with a tinge of a cry. "Have to have some heart damage at this point."

Shawn turned away from the window and stared on toward the wall. 

"Did you get a load of that?" Henry asked, shaking his head, amused. 

Boone and Peters exchanged a look then faced the room. 

"Certainly got him to stop throwing that long crying episode. He's not stomping, not screaming, not smacking the table, not screaming his heart out." Peters ran it all down of his prior attitude. "Henry, I don't know about you but that man is grieving them."

"Peters, do you know how many murderers do that after killing someone?"

"Plenty." Peters replied. 

"Too many of them." Boone agreed. 

"You know something, spit it out, men!" Henry requested.

"We don't know anything  except he spontaneously confessed." Boone said.

Peters looks over toward the young man for a long time taking sympathy.

"He just looks... so sad... and defeated," Peters remarked. "Just waiting for it all to be over." The two men exchanged a glance then a nod. "It's different from the other guys that we've put behind bars. He acts guilty, but the gut is saying he didn't do it."

"Do you got evidence to support that?"

"Look at his face, it's way too clean." Boone said.

"If he did the crime then his face would be as bloody as his clothes, you know how bloody it can get," Henry looked  back and forth facing the men thinking it over. "blood splatter!"

"Forensics tended to him getting off all the evidence." Peters said.

"All the blood on his face?" Henry asked, incredulously.

"There are some people in forensics that have hearts." Peters replied.

"He confessed." Henry reminded them facing the aged man in interrogation that he pointed back at and faced the duo. "Prove to the chief that he is lying. Because he is not. He is responsible."

"For the reason the murder happened!" Peters shot back. 

"You are clinically insane." Henry said. "I'll have a beat cop take him to holding."

"Henry!" Peters called watching him walk off. 

A moment later Officer Lassiter appeared with a mustache then opened the door and faced him. 

Shawn turned his attention toward him and proceeded to smile facing him then leaned forward back admiring the far younger man who looked so dorky. As if he were looking at a old video. Looking at him in such love, affection, and sorrow, and yearning that made the beat cop stand there quite unusual. Wearing the face of a man who saw greatness who entered the room. 

"... Chief Carlton Lassiter, you're adorable."

The beat cop gripped the door facing the loving gaze that unnerved him. 

"I.. I... I.. I am... so.. so... so sorry," Shawn apologized in a way that made the uncomfortable mood in the air melt. 

Shawn looked up then got up from the table and approached the beat cop then grabbed him by the cheeks and planted a kiss that was sudden, caring, and so, apologetic. Nice and sad that was abhorrent at first for the detective until it got better. Shawn broke off the kiss.

Then was planted against the wall and cuffed. 

"You are under the arrest for the assault of the officer!" Came the roar of the beat cop. 

A genuine laugh came forth reminding him of the old days then escorted out of the room. 

"Oh, that's the old Lassie that I know!" Then paused looking at the stairs, his heart heavy, bright, virtually unchanged, a harsh jarring flashback to years ago seeing his fiance at the top alongside O'Hara in the middle of discussion about preparations for protection. 

Pain. Nothing but pain. 

His knees gave out and he fell over taking the beat cop along for the ride.

Boone and Peter returned to the crime scene with gentle care.

The Green Bean parked along the sidewalk. Peters sliding over it then rushing up and opened the door to the house. The two men put on white gloves then observed then crime scene. 

Peters and Boone read the scene with fresh eyes.

Looking at the floor that had imprints of chair legs.

Peters lifted the phone, swiped the screen, sighed, then lifted it to the side of his ear.

"Herb,  call forensics back to the Guster crime scene. They missed very critical evidence."

He hung up taking in a inhale.

There was the outlined figure of the man seated in a chair.

There was a knock at the door then Peters opened it.

"Do you see what I see, Boone?" Peters asked.

The teenager wore that familiar smile.

"A splitting image." Boone stated.

"Uhh, Gus's uncles?" Was the question of the teenager, nice, thin,  emotionally unharmed.

"I'll be damned " Peters said.

Boone lifted his phone then sent a text over to Henry

"Have you seen time cop?" Boone asked 

"It's a cult classic, dude!" Was the comeback. "It's like asking if I haven't seen Tombstone and the breakfast club."

"The kids are alright, Peters." Boone replied looking over.

Henry and his partner pulled up in front of the driver's ed car.

The teenager turned and ran fast as his legs could carry him. Henry bolted after the teenager down the street then smacked him against the wired fence and cuffed him right there giving him the Miranda rights. Henry was angry at the young man lifting him off the fence then directing him back in the direction of the car from ahead. Forensics returned to the scene of the crime as Peters and Boone left the household.

The pair approached the detective wearing the same marching expression that was tinged in sorrow and heartache.

"Think of the consequences."

"Don't have much choice."

"He is going to beat up a innocent man with immense guilt brutally to a pulp and then the department is not going to look good at all." Peters laid it all out for the man.

"We'll have the guy in interrogation." Henry said.

"Until arraignment? Until trial? Can't keep these two apart."

"Just can't." Boone nodded his head in agreement

"It is impossible, Henry." Peters said.

"What happened in the house?"  The teenager asked.

"Fine." Henry admitted then looked over toward his son. "I will tell him."

"We are going to tell the chief that you need protection." Peters added.

"Do not!" Henry barked.

"This is serious." Boone said 

" Your entire family was threatened by a third party." Peters added.

"What's got you believing that sick man's story!" Henry roared.

"That man was tied to an goddamn chair when incident occurred!" Peters exclaimed. 

"Incident?" The teen looked back toward Henry as his mouth fell open.

Henry paused as his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, no, now you are feeding this man's delusion and asking the chief to waste tax payer dollars! Just lie to the man? His activities are over!"

"We can but we won't." Boone replied.

The pair returned to the green bean then drove away leaving Henry to start talking. The teenager shook his head desperate for it to be a cruel lesson, a mere dress run for personal cases. Starting to say one word over and over again as Henry continued. A very difficult moment delivering the hardest blow in the teen's life.

His voice becoming upset, breaking apart, smacking his fists against him blaming the man for everything as he starts to sink down to the side walk and wailed.

The two men into the interrogation room. The air was still around them facing the man who had been recently put back in there. He wasn't sobbing anymore. His hands were resting on the table facing them wearing a fond smile that was cast upon them.

He looked better now not the same emotionally beaten up man asked before. He wore sorrow but it wasn't as bad as it had been only several minutes ago. 

"What happened on the case,  Shawn." Peters asked.

"And after." Boone said.

The young man talked and talked, calmly, slowly becoming uncomposed the further that he went, releasing a barrage of heartache and tears. His voice trembling with each word going over the events.

He leaned back and lifted up inhaling the tears facing the men with a sniffle.

"Let us help out." Peters requested 

"Denied." Shawn replied, bitterly, laughing then looking up.  "He took down the entire department once in front of dad's door," flicking off a tear.  "he can do it twice."

"Effortlessly." Peters assumed.

"Uh huh."

"Least we know when we are up against." Peters remarked. "What's his name?"

"Eold Wolf. Then I respect you... a lot.. a lot," he leaned forward toward them. "but you need to say goodbye to Dad before it's too late."

"Tell us more about the anomalous forest." Peters requested.

"I never said..."

"There was a forest mentioned in front of the house." Boone laid it all out there for the fake psychic. "Can't be a machine summoning counterparts at a time so fast. Sounds like he's abducted them earlier then drag them out."

Shawn looked down toward the table thinking it over. 

"That makes sense."

"So tell us .. have you watched yourself being killed as a teenager and your father being left alive?" Boone inquired.

"Please, don't do this to yourself." came the plea with a shake of his head. "Dad has probably already handled it or is in the process of handling it."

"Memory isn't as good as your mom's." Boone said. "The mind protect itself by forgetting certain things that make it hot and super painful for the heart."

"Memories fade slowly after a time..." Peters agreed with a slow nod. "Painfully fading nightmare after nightmare after nightmare."

"And we want to bring in this bastard for a crime whether we can't help you out or not well you are from. We can stop him for the life from being lost." Boone was leaned forward just at the same time that Peters was.

Shawn looked aside then back.

"I got more faith in Dad than you." Shawn replied. 

"... Not even if this version of him is connected to a crime that has performed a crime?" Peters asked. 

"Putting that way.." he rubbed his lips having an inhale.

The men leaned forward even further.

"Yes, Shawn?"

"Eold Wolf."

The men leaned back in sync.

"The mayor." Peters said.

"We suspect him in a series of murders..."

"Look for a place that has trophies."

"Why?"

"The guy I knew snatched Lassiter's family heirloom off my finger and I haven't had it since.."

The men's eyebrows lifted at once.

"You seen them?"

"See him put something in a glass case in the corner of the lobby 2 years ago when I was supposed to put into that basement."

Peters slid forward a glass then Shawn picked it up and sipped it all down.

"Bad or worse than the Gusters." Boone replied.

"Worse than them." He rubbed his face then when he opened his eyes there was another glass of water. 

"Talk about having it rough." Boone said.

Shawn downed that glass, too, then sighed.

"And I am pretty sure he stole the Spencer family ring off my fiance's.. dead ..body.."

Peters took his hand then gave it a queeze.

"cut off his finger into chunks for it because it is so tight."

"Let's not talk about that picture." Boone advised.

Teas fell as his hazel eyes burned in the flood of tears looking aside.

"I need to talk about it!" He looked up with a shout. "He never could take it off and put it on the table before bed once putting the ring on."

Peters swallowed quite hard for a moment.

"What's your size?" Boone asked.

"it's unnecessary," he rested the palm of his hands against his the side of his temples and his elbows rested on the table looking down.

"Hear us out." Peters requested 

"I got a washer and dryer back in the basement." Shawn continued.

"We're not leaving you to face a horror show in the dried blood of your best friend." Boone said.

Shawn looked up toward them then sighed leaned back.

"Being snatched or not by Eold Wolf's men attacking this great building." Peters agreed.

Shawn looked aside giving it some thought rubbing the back of his head.

"Medium," Shawn shrugged with a sniffle leaning back into the seat. "I guess?"

Henry paced around making the calls.

Madeleine wasn't picking up her blueberry.

Jack wasn't answering his apple watch.

He was only getting voice mails in response. His son was cooped up in his bedroom crying into the pillow. He looked up considering the ample opportunity to climb in and snatching him, dragging him along, unable to scream, a horrible thought that was enough to lower the phone and put it back into his pant pocket thinking fast about vulnerable entrances of the house. 

He rushed up the stairs and dragged his son out of the room.

"No, no, no more, training!

"We are not training today."

"What are we doing then?  My life is over!"

"It may seem that way--"

"Gus is DEAD!"

"But it is not the end of you."

"More so it is."

"How about we watch a horror time travel movie."

"That is so not a thing."

"Totally killer. And time cut."

"'I can't do this with you right now--"

His son turned away but Henry stopped him and tugged him back.

"Family night!" Henry went to the kitchen then snatched a bag of popcorn ripped it open then popped it in and snagged his son from leaving.

"You are being absurd!"

"Don't know what the real definition of absurd is, Shawn. It's like back to the future meets a slasher movie."

"I do too!"

"Every good detective has to have a grounding."

"This is so unreasonable!"

It might just be the last night they share together in this house and Shawn wasn't scared. Not like Henry was slowly being roasted in fear that was building up watching his son go down first. Or vice versa. Going down in pain on the height of fear and being alone. 

Henry plopped onto the couch and put on the movie.

Herb stared at the figure who has a great resemblance to the teenager.

Someone who would normally be booked, arraigned pleading guilty, and he sent off to juvie getting a mark on his record. The young man was living in terror that lingered and attacked his heart. Seeing him older and silent gazing down upon the table.

Fresh set of clothes that were nice and comforting. A dark purple stripes plaid that was  buttoned up with a equally as purple undershirt. His face wasn't as red as it was several hours ago. Not as teary eyes or inconsolable. He was nice and calm and if he had left behind that emotional stare into the past and put himself together.

If the events of tonight were going to turn out horrible as last time...

Herb rubbed his face mulling it over then went up the stairs returning to the familiar landscape of the orange themed department that was so welcoming and cozy. Warm bubbly vibes that could turn into a blood bath.

He had made sure to write down the details of the set up that the officer was put under due to the glowing way the man talked about him. If there was that potential inside of him there had to be potential for outside forces apart from the missing players to make sure it nudged in the right direction.  Someone who was going to do everything to protect the reputation of the department.

He approached the young man with a mustache set at his desk that was way in the corner.

"Lassiter, go home."

"But--"

"Go home."

"Is this about the hardened criminal that kissed me?"

"That man is Detective Spencer's son. Starting to tomorrow you're a detective effectively immediately" news that rocked his world. "Detective."

Sole survivor of the nightmare.

"Sir.." he stepped forward, concerned as his eyes studied the chief then his eyes began to brighten up.

"The mustache looks stupid...Get rid of it."

He could imagine him going down with them being a big hero exactly for a perfect stranger representing the best of the city. He looked like a young promising dorky cop that had it in him to become something great. 

The beat cop left the floor rushing past the chief who's eyes darted back and forth among the officers that are there sticking around pretending to be working.  He faced the edge of the first floor where the newly promoted beat cop had went in the gap opening a whole new era for the department the very next day. He waited for several minutes before opening his mouth and speaking. 

"Tonight with our might we prove to the future of crime that we won't go down easily. We prove to citizens of this city that we will stand in the way of a nightmare and fight and go it out all for the innocent. Has everyone got their affairs in order."

Silence a filled the room gazing around the numerous personnel.

"Let's get out there and surround the Spencer house. Put Spencer in Lassiter's old cruiser, they will never look there!"

Police cars showed up discreetly around the house over the last few hours during the movie marathon that lingered. A lot of time travel crime tinged movies that seemed to be consistent. It was becoming stranger to our loud admit that that he wanted to just watch a slasher.

There was a break in the movie marathon watching a mother kill her daughter's killer over and over and over. That was by far the most entertaining part of the film that made the two men cheer and laugh. Henry enjoyed it more than his son did.

His son looked out the beach front window gazing on toward the vehicles hidden beneath the light save for the sirens that stood out.

He turned toward Henry facing him.

"Making sure I don't leave the house and find the guy responsible for it? Over kill.""

"They are not here for you."

"Then ..." His hazel eyes gazed from side to side as his eyebrows furrowed together. "what are they here for?"

Henry took another sip of the can.

"Us." Henry answered.

"Did you do something that got on the bad side of the police department?" His son was skeptical. 

Henry looked back toward his son rubbing the back of his head lowering his gaze coming to grips with his entire role in the nightmare. His heart stuck there on his throat. 

"It's..."

"One of your cases."

"Something you did." 

"So stealing the driver's ed car is now a personal insult to the department." His son's future was on fire falling apart in the dark silently and he didn't know it. Because Henry lit it up. He told him to continue. And now. His son was suffering. "Right on the way to  Robocop territory."

Henry walked away then opened the fridge and withdrew a can.

"Would have done." Henry added.

The teenager stopped and stared as his father rubbed the back of his neck.

"Dad..." His son stepped forward.

"Very serious."

"Dead.. serious."

"Serious as Grant Gustin."

"Is there an older me running around?" He pointed over his shoulder turning back and forth. "Like Jean-Claude Van Damme?"

Henry's laughter carried through the house at the reminder. It was similar enough to compare except largely different circumstances.

"I guess in your shoes," Henry pulled open the can that made a satisfying hiss and shrugged looking over. "I would have done the exact same thing and instead threw my drink in the slimy smug criminal's face before being escorted out of the house."

The teenager stared at him.

"Herb called and told me everything during the commercial break."

He walked out of the kitchen then toward the living room.

"How the department went down the first time in front of this house."

He sat down in front of the wide screen tv.

 "Why would they bring all the dekka for me?"

"They came to have your back, fake Psychic with a felony on his record!" He lifted up the can with a smile. "Someone deceiving them all. Willingly throwing their lives on the line for...and I couldn't have been more proud knowing the kind of guy you would have grew up to be that meant to the department."

The teenager was gaping looking back and forth as the older man sipped from the can.

"Dad, did you get hit in the head?" He tapped on the side of his skull. "Being this emotionally open is so unlike you." Throwing his hands back and forth between them. "It isn't our thing."

"Shawn, I have seen you broken." Henry clarified gazing over toward the teenager. "If that person behind it can do that then he has to be winning a lot."

The teenager stared back at the older man in a long moment of disbelief both in confounding confusion and alarm

"This means ...  being emotionally open." Holding his hand up staring at Henry. "In the middle of chaos." Repeating the nature of the situation. "Right now?"

Henry faced the television set browsing through Netflix taking a sip of the can and lowered it in the silence that his son was in.

"Your mom left me." Henry revealed.

It was like the plug in the teenager's life had been pulled staring at the man who hadn't been the best figure lately.

"I would rather kill you than let him break you as a teenager. Do you understand?"

"Your only son."

"It's that or you watching all of the rest of the family die one by one."

"So you are giving up because he broke me." Shaking his head in disbelief and dry skeptical laughter was thrown away. "You!" Pointing toward the detective. "A detective who doesn't give up!"

"Shawn ..."

His son paced around laughing at the situation then faced him in a flash of anger that was ghastly.

"Don't Shawn me; I can survive this!" Shawn paused in his tracks and faced Henry. "All I need to do is leave with ten bucks and take my motorcycle then I will never have to go through that!"

Henry was quiet for a long moment watching Shawn speed up the stairs then run to his room. The steps were nice and loud like an elephant stopping through the area. Then the steps paused that were not as loud as they started again. His son was starting start packing his things in a rush.

Henry went up then paused standing at the doorway.

"How are you going to be a detective in the future without Gus there?" Henry paused there leaning against the doorway.

His son took out more of his clothes then stuffed them into a large bag 

"Figure something out."

His eyes watched him snatching things out of there.

"There isn't that many people like him out there." Henry said.

"Have some hope, dad." 

His eyes softened upon the teenager who was scared out of his mind as the clock was ticking upon him.

This was psychological torture. Raising it across the mind of a teenager leaving significant scar tissue behind. It was also intentional leaving behind the well aging counterpart. Can we walked over to the window peeling out spying the police cars and a black vehicle park there crossing it. Armed men position coming out holding guns on their person. 

Henry stepped back and face the teenager it was so ugly afraid of the entire situation. Stuffing a lot of things in there the hell we remembered was from the days with Gus was in his life pieces of the youth felt now years ago when it wasn't. Something that was just a few hours ago. It is sad little way to take Gus along for the ride.

"Do you want to chance it that you will run into a firefight leaving this house?"

He looked up toward Henry wearing a scowl.

"If I get to see Gus sooner and less people die, I will chance it." The teenager shot back

Henry shrugged then walked past the room.

"Suit yourself, Shawn." Henry replied.

His steps echoed behind him.

"Really, he was that bad." The teenager glared back where he had stood. "To beak you."

Henry paused in his tracks then closed his eyes for a moment and came back.

"He was inconsolable." Henry responded. "And Gus..." Another inhale lowering his gaze then up. "The last face that he saw was yours..."

"That is SICK!"

"Some cold grave comfort to take."

"That is not comforting in the slightest, dad!"

Henry turned away taking a few steps forward then paused in his tracks.

"Really think you can out run them " 

"If I say I can then I can and I can!" Was the reply 

Henry closed his eyes sharply inhaling then exhaled 

"One of us is still going to die tonight whether one of us makes the escape." Henry faced his son for a moment. "And they are here."

The teenager stared back at Henry for a long awful moment decorated and built in something that was heavily grotesque.

"You.. you.. you... are joking." The teenager accused in his anger.

"The time to joke ended a few minutes ago." Henry replied.

The teenager went toward the window and gazed out and turned his attention back.

"Sure you want to run instead of not going on this wild chase that is going in miserably and break your heart and crush your soul?"

"It's a whole lot better than giving up what I have left!"

Henry was silent mulling it over.stbthd point that had been made.

Then he sighed folding his arms.

The sound of gun fire started outside.

Henry looked toward the window as his face fell then faced his son who wanted to live. So did Henry.

The teenager was shoved into the police cruiser in the chaos that unfolded in several minutes. Fast rapid paced disorienting event where his dad was holding his hand so tightly it could have shattered it severely breaking bit but then trio didn't. Living in the middle of a crime thriller sucked badly.

One minute he was in the house then the next minute he went out the front door into a battlefield that had shouting over the radio and Herb was pissed at the detective.

"What are you doing, Henry!" Herb asked

"Don't have much of a choice." Henry replied

"Think of the consequences!" Herb roared.

"This is the best way to avoid this one!" Henry replied

"They can nail him!" Herb shot back. "Clip him!"

"Chief, trust me!" Henry looked over toward Herb. "I got this!"

"A plan?" Herb asked, incredulously.

"Some facsimile of one!" Henry replied

Herb looked on toward the foe.

"What are you doing then?" Herb barked. "Go!"

Henry was in, sending the shot gun aside, tucked beside him and the teen, and driving away without buckling in driving off into the distance. All this leaving behind the barrage of police cars that were fleeing.

There was screams from afar and a car being blown up that the teenager peered off into the distance out the window as his heart raced and sucked on his breath as anxiety clutched his heart like a cage sheltering it giving it's good rattle instead of a good safe hold.

Henry was driving and fast.

The teenager held his bag of stuff that was swung over his shoulder hyperventilating.

"This would be a lot better if he left Gus behind and both of you were in the back seat."

"Ditto."

"Get used to it."

"Trying to!"

"It's the first day of the rest of your life."

Henry drove through the city breezing his way out of it with cars in the way. He was speeding fast toward Goleta when a series of cars halted him in his tracks. Loud tire squeals breaking rules of the road. Avoiding the night owls heading to work just to this patch of road.

Henry parked the car then opened the door and took out his shot gun. His son paid little attention to his side to the fact that a police issued rifle was planted on the chair neighboring him. 

A couple shots were exchanged.

,"Gus would have gotten married to this girl called Mira Gaffney in college." His own voice but older came from behind him. "He annuls the marriage years later so she can get married to another guy. Whole thing really."

The teenager looked at the mirror revealing himself in the back seat.

"I am going to forget about this."  The older man sniffled looking side.

"The guy might want that so he can make you watch it again."

The man rubbed his mouth looking aside.

"Doubt it." The older man's words were upset.

He looked back and forth then facing the car.

"Dude."

"What?" Shawn looked up over a sniffle

"How did no one pick up that I was a fake psychic for the last 19 years?" A genuinely curious question that made his counterpart laugh

"Seven years." Shawn replied lowering his head with a snicker.

"SEVEN?"

His head lifted in shock and disbelief.

"YOU STARTED SOONER?"

"I...UH... might be a little genuine psychic. Snap shots of my future." The older looked so sad at what he had burned away. "Seen things but not your trainwreck." Shaking his head in sympathy. "Not that man bun."

The older man leaned forward as Henry snatched the rifle then leaned back.

"Was Gus upset?" The teenager asked.

"Gus...Gus was brave in the end." his voice cracked with a sob. 

He saw himself smiling instead of anger.

"That makes all the difference." The teenager replied, soothed.

The teenager turned his attention back then watched his father fall. He opened the door then charged out running around the car. He was knocked down by the butt of a gun. He watched his counterpart be hauled away hanging there.

Shawn discarded the memory of the entire episode over a sob. 

The door beside him opened and he was out then saw the very dead body of the detective and it hurt his heart raw. A long pause that hurt gawking at him. Grayold and Dustin grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away as Wolf looked down sporting a scowl. 

"Guess we have to do the same thing again to have it close enough." Wolf remarked, bitterly. His hands were slipped into his pocket gazing upon the collapsed silent figure. "But kill his son after knocking him out."

He walked away from the corpse.

A lime green Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham followed in the distance like a green bean hidden in the darkness followed by an ordinary car stalking it in the background.

The teenager was shoved into the basement then left behind.

The teen climbed up the stairs then whacked at the door repeatedly.

"Let me out of here! Let me just if here! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"Goose?"

"Shawn!"

"Mom?" He stopped what he was doing lowering his fists and faced them at the bottom of the steps looking on in concern seeing him look distraught. "Uncle Jack?"

The teenager sped down the stairs rushing on toward his mom and uncle running into their arms. The trio collided against the wall quite loudly. The teenager backed odd between his sobs then lowered down to his knees

"Where is Henry?"

The teen wailed so loudly as Jack Spencer gazed on toward his brother's son.

"How is he?" 

"Madeleine..."

"Do you know what happened to him?"

The teenager wailed loudly against her chest.

"They shot him." Jack stated.

"So you know these men?"

Jack shook his head in the middle of tears.

"Not the people that I tend to cross paths with. Has to be something Henry investigated."

At 3:30 Burton Guster got off the buss.

5 minutes later he opened the door to the house.

What followed was seeing a man who wore a strange gothic twisted collar around his neck but nothing was coming out.

"Burton, run!"

"Baby, get out!"

The man was screaming his name, scared, then it was lights out, falling to his side. His eyes opening facing the man from before rocking himself back and forth lowering his head in shame and his eyes squeezing shut. It was Shawn but older.

The same lines as before was said in the middle of fear and distress. Piercing glared of blame resting on him and all he could see was a man who was living in the dark mind clawing bottomless pits of hell. The man lifted his head up then motioned for the chair leg with his eyes between his sobbing and pleading.

He could  move his legs with ease and the chairs were old. Easy to break with one single movement against the chair egg. 

Popping echoed in the chair as Gus kicked the legs of the chair that cracked in the chaos. Winnie saw and looked over toward Shawn who was beckoning Gus to do it fast between his tears. A strange feeling of assurance washed over her.

He lifted himself up, opened the door, and fled out screaming running to the nearest police car that showed up nearby.

Shawn was panting as he looked up wearing a grin and if his fighting spirit had returned with a vengeance.

"You ruined it!"

A single whack then he was unconscious.

"Let's start over."

Next time, Gus appeared, 1:30 not 3:30, Shawn wore a visor that ---darkened during the slaughter--  attached to the device around his neck clawing into it that ached whenever he moved his head and burned. The family are dead. Restraints removed, collar and visor withdrawn, chairs taken away.  Shawn was inspected thoroughly by forensics. It was harsh and gnawing on his heart that felt hollowed out and aching.

He was treated for the injuries by the paramedics on the scene after a ambulance took the teenage Gus. 

He took off the scrunchy and let his hair fall naturally on his shoulders. Nice and curly like a vampire, or, precisely, a fashion model, giving it a good shake, it felt nice and heavy and thick, appreciating his hair being nice and down. Henry seeking for answers glaring holes into his head over the exasperated aged Shawn Spencer, being transferred to holding, this time not talking, not giving anything,  then joined later by his teenage self. 

"I..I...I.."

The door opened then Peters snatched him out of the cell.

"Shut up, you guilt ridden kid!" Peters hauled him away.

"We have been busy closing a case." Boone added, joining to his side.

"Really busy finding a missing kid." Peters continued the line of thought exchanging a look and a shrug. "Just ripped Henry a new one for booking a victim for a crime that they did not commit."

Victim.

No, not murderer, not assaulter, not instigator, not even perpetrator. Victim, a word to someone who was wronged and harmed. Did he deserve that word assigned to him? A word that felt so alien to him being spoken in his general space directed to him after three years.

From the outside that is what he was to those unaware of the exact circumstance that clawed at his personal life and those around him to great severe costs. A comment hat made a low rumble laugh grow older leaning his head back then lower until it ended. Quite unnerving for the least that could be mistaken for a villainous laughter. A laugh that just drew more pity from Boone and sympathy from Peters. 

His best friend's blood had dried off on his clothing and he looked like a murderer rather than a new victim that survived. From the trained observer paying little attention to the small wounds he looked like a victim. His fingers were still black from being printed. Trembling fingers. He looked at his blackened fingers for a long time in interrogation being seated in the seat. 

"We got you new clothes." Boone handed the bundle off to him.

"We did a lot of guessing." Peters continued.

He changed in interrogation then wiped his hand and face with wipes. Everything was like a cloud hanging over him as his heart aches so hard. Hurting and bothered. The men returned wearing intrigued and also concern. 

"If you won't talk to Henry, could you at least talk to us about the man who did this?" Boone asked.

Shawn talked and talked and talked and talked and talked as he starts to unravel then turned away and went back to crying. Cupping the side of his face turning away. The men were silent with very little interruption or any nudging him in his field of rage and sorrow. His well aging voice broke apart as his figure trembled hunched over to their combined horror.

He heard shooting that caused the men to ran out and rushed toward the gun fire.

A few moments later Wolf appeared at the door.

"Why does your father .. keep ... dying." Wolf faced him in a questioning tone made of irritation.

"Maybe because he loves me." Shawn suggested, leaning back, shaking his head, wearing a smile, laughing, in amusement. "Or perhaps that isn't in your book."

Wolf wore a dark expression on his face gazing upon the younger man then stepped aside and walked out of his line of sight followed by a series of footsteps approaching interrogation.

Again the scene was set up.

Screaming in rage and pleading with his hair down. 

The same discussions. Shawn had to participate, it was the only way he could make sure that Henry got to spend time alongside his teen self for hours. He remembered this slice of the torture. Buying them time. Boone and Peters made sure that Shawn changed then got a hotel room and shower. A good long cold shower before coming out and being refreshed. He had to remember it in case Henry got killed again. 

Being back on cruiser and watching the familiar detective Lassiter appear.

"I said, go home!"  Herb barked.

"But chief!" Lassiter barked

Herb pointed into the distance away from the incoming tragedy.

"Go home!"

"This is my home!"

"No, it isn't!"

"This is where I belong, serving my community, among my people, serving by their side,  and I rather defend it then hop into a bad of acid!"

"Get that man out of here!"

The detective didn't have enough time to make it back out of there as a student started. As if I'm cute just tragedy began to unfold taking down the entire police department mowing them there one by one. Familiar figures appeared coming out of the house it's one of them clinching out to a bag against the side and the other holding that person's hand while on the other hand was a shotgun. 

Lassiter opened the door for the teenager while giving cover for the older man providing returning fire. It was a beautiful symphony of the best of Santa Barbara being played in executed the chaos that was unfolding. A quick exchange of words was had between them. Henry was shot down in the line of fire and Shawn emerged out of it then sunk down against the white fence listening to the car speed off.

This time a long and beautiful friendship started with no interruption. 

"Stop dying!" Wolf screamed at the corpse. 

Shawn found a morbid reason to laugh.

The same scene, the same lines, it was torture, and it still hurt. Playing his part becoming angry at being in this position confessing to his father and admitting, he didn't regret it. Not a single inch. Not one moment. That's why he deserved this Hell itself. He didn't regret doing anything that led up to it in taking down a dirt bag at the top of his game like a man who had a long curved stick taking down a powerful monument. And that was the most upsetting part of this entire situation facing the harsh and angered glare of his father who wore disappointment and Shawn cried a bit. 

Then the same lines, nudging it forward, playing his part, having some power, doing it for his dad, the department, and his younger self.  They were owed time together that he had ripped away from them unwittingly. Boone and Peters were too kind for him. Got him out and made him get a hair cut, cutting off the large chunk of curly hair in one fell swoop, then additional trimming, and put the bloodied scrunchy into an evidence baggy and took it away. 

Henry drove off fleeing from the scene under the cover of night heading for Goleta. Shawn closed his eyes taking in a breath and exhaling. He lowered his head then fell asleep in the tension that was had and anxiety being ignored by the two men. His eyes opened facing that all of the cars stopped and Henry was getting out.

Wolf appeared by the side of the detective then whacked him on the head knocking him down.

He fired a shot into the passenger side surprising the older man.

The door beside him opened then Dustin and Edfin lifted Shawn out carrying him into the other car.

Shawn's emotional exhaustion tugged him down into the bedrock of rest. 

The family were set in front of the tree line. 

One by one in a neat file line in front of the forest. Henry was seated across from the teenager having a clear eyed view of the patio with Madeleine and Jack between him and the teenager. Henry recognized the figure from afar on the patio and a pang of regret hit him as the man's words dawned on him as the moment had come alive despite everything that had been done. A nightmare that everyone had been sucked into.

Henry squinted into the tree line. Peters and Boone were there in the tree line joined by the beat cop who had a little mustache, neatly lined up side by side, their gazes fixated on the soon to be crime scene.  There was no back up. They couldn't run in performing a great rescue. Henry looked over toward the young man then his eyes lifted over toward the men that surrounded the building. He faced them shaking his head.

"Didn't you get shot, Henry?" Jack asked. 

"I got better!" Sarcastically.

"Henry!" Madeleine shrieked. 

"I.. I.. I.." Henry looked over toward his teenager acknowledging his entire role in the tragedy. "I should have never trained you to be a detective, Shawn."

"Think my mind is changed, this is far more satisfying in a very emotional sense." The gun was lifted then Jack was the first to be shot. 

Henry shrieked quite distraught then saw Madeleine be taken away in a single bullet to the head, over the man's smile, watching Wolf approach his son, screaming one word. 

The older version of his son was silently crying lowering his head with small little sobs unable to look at the situation that he had no regret in making. He should be feeling regret. That's the hard part about it all. That's what hurt the most.  Not even paying attention to what was playing out ahead of him as the dialogue was background noise to a play occurring without really seeing it's horrors. 

Wolf approached Henry after a moment leaving the distraught teenager back and he lifted the gun. It took a couple shots to take down the detective and then he was gone. The only sound that could be heard was a long shattered anguished scream and coughing and sobbing. 

"Take them back to their individual worlds." Wolf requested, simply. 

The chairs were dragged into the tree line except for the teenager. Being eaten raw by grief. Watching them be carried away. The men returned as the audience lifted up, wearing long tranquil rage, stopping the beat cop from going in, then opted that they had enough of it all and left the scene vanishing off into the forest. Leaving the broken teenager who had fallen apart there in the silence.

It was almost a moment later that a young Henry Spencer with hair emerged holding a gun.

"You're not killing my son a second time on MY WATCH, Mr Wolf."

Shawn wore heavy apologetic hazel eyes facing the older man. He knew which one this was from.

"The most entertaining detective in the entire world who dies so easily when it comes to this teenager..."

"Stop apologizing!" Henry barked back while retaining his tense demeanor, annoyed. "It's only been thirty minutes!"

Shawn lowered his head then up facing the younger man shaking his head with a question of his own. After all the pain that he had put him through for those few minutes and witnessing a horrific scene. Simply unforgivable. Digging up his father's heart. Putting him through that hell. Henry's head slightly lifted in a heat of anger then his attention focused on the man responsible for his who lacked any guilt what so ever. 

"Who are you talking to, Detective?" Wolf asked. 

"Don't really need to say." Henry's eyes were locked on toward Wolf. 

"And how did you get here?" Wolf questioned. 

"Had some very helpful birds appear out of thin air." Henry said. 

"Shoot to kill." Wolf ordered. 

From afar was the sound of dogs barking that drew the attention of Wolf and the detail off of Henry for a moment, Shawn watched a familiar face with a mustache lean forward grabbing hold on to Henry's collar, holding a gun aimed at the Wolf, sporting a long cold gaze, then their attention back in the nick of time watching him watching him be tugged back into the forest by a long arm stumbling right in. He had already lost when the duo vanished.

Shawn was laughing from the distance, cackling, wheezing, slumping there, lowering his head, then up.

"For that..." Wolf approached the man laughing at his epic failure. "both you and your childhood friend," he halted in his tracks. "age eight," Leaning forward, over the laughter that continued. "are going to be watching their parents die and survive then be separated by your uncles. Before these big phones made information travel fast."

The 80s.

"No.. no.. no..." his voice was already hoarse as it was from the numerous attempts done to try and snatch them. They're just kids!"

"Convinced not to become private detectives."

Shawn stopped laughing leaning forward shaking his head and screaming. 

"NO! NO! NO!"

"Might have to shoot the fake psychic kid just to twist the knife so your childhood's uncle could collect him and he won't even know whether his friend made it."

"NO!"

"And vice versa, all without the shooting him."

"Don't you dare put them through it!"

"I really have no choice in the whole matter, you approved it all." Wolf remarked, then gazed up facing the security. "Put the collar on his neck." Shawn was thrashing in the chair trying to break free of it and lunge after it. "Then we're bringing them over to this world. And after, we're done toying with you."

Shawn shrieked his heart out feeling the familiar attachments be hooked into him then watched them vanish. 

A instant later they returned with the two families, knocked out, and put them in chairs, tied them up, then it happened, again, watching them be slaughtered, and he watched the children scream in anguish, scared, words exchanged between Henry and him, then it was over. Shawn watched his counterpart slump there in the chair. He never heard a child scream that way before, intense, all consuming, an entire world burning down, losing everything. The young Burton Guster was hit with the gun. Shawn rocked himself back and forth between his tears then watched them all be taken away.

They returned him to the basement where he hit the wall after stumbling down. His heart threatening to come out as he stumbled forward heading on past the living room section of the basement got a grip  of the bookshelf and knocked them all down to the floor, each layer of the bookshelf was knocked off, loud roars that hit the floor, then falling downn to his knees, and clasping his hair. 

A loud ding struck the air. 

Over the sound of his weeping. 

Then another ding. 

Hurt and anguished over his role.

And another ding. 

Not knowing if the other survived and assuming the worst.

And another ding. 

Knowing that he lost his family because of his best friend and his best friend knowing it... how was he going to cope with that without Gus? His anchor, his support, his other half, the pain of tearing them apart.

Another ding caused him to lift his head to lift up then look over toward the book and lifted it up with a tremble. Pressing the side of the button then the screen lit up with messages. A simple, flat, light-blue speech bubble with a lightning bolt and red glowing number beside it. He gently tapped on it wiping away the tears finding a selection of new text messages that were old. 

A large weepy inhale was had as he opened the chat with Dennis and found texts that took the air out of his lungs at words that filled in the gaps. Messages from everyone that made his entire world be rocked:

~

November 3rd, 2013: