"The Talk" had been inevitable. It had hung above them like the literal Damocles' Sword, waiting to be dropped and rip apart the shroud of blissful ignorance Shawn had put up around himself.
He wasn’t a fan.
The first time he had "the talk," he was in second grade. Ever since kindergarten it had been obvious Shawn was smarter than the other kids. And while his parents tried to bring him up as normal as possible, his ever growing boredom in class finally prompted his teacher to sit the whole family down and "talk" about possible alternative schooling. (All of them not including Gus.)
Shawn hadn't liked those alternatives one bit.
So he changed his demeanor, mimicking his classmates and favorite cartoon characters, and soon his teacher withdrew her suggestion and relented that Shawn may have simply been an early bloomer.
The second time, he was nine years old, and his grandmother had just been diagnosed with cancer in its final stage. Shawn had erased his memories of that particular conversation, and the subsequent weeks watching his gran rapidly deteriorate. (Which of course meant he had shoved them into the farthest away recesses of his mind, lying dormant in all their brilliant detail, but banned from his conscious thought processes.)
Then, when he was 13, his father tried to initiate a very different type of “talk,” which Shawn quickly shot down, because that's what Sex Ed was for, thank you very much. And wasn't his mother much more qualified to hold this type of conversation anyway?
Ever since then, all commencing "talks" revolved around his future. What summer job did he intend to choose this year, how could it possibly help him decide on a college and, farther down the line, a career, and "You’ve had nine different employments since graduating High School two years ago, are you sure you want to quit already, Mr. Spencer?"
(The only "talk" that never happened was the one where his parents explained to him why his mother left in the middle of the night and never looked back.)
Shawn had become quite good at deflecting "talks" of any kind. He preferred doing whatever he wanted. He did not let anyone change his mind, be it Gus or Chief Vick or his parents (his dad, really, there wasn't much he would deny his mother, despite everything).
He never had "a talk" with Juliet about their future. Marriage, kids – all these things were mentioned in passing, but never discussed. They were happy.
And now they were in San Francisco, and all of a sudden Juliet wanted to "talk". About how this would work. How he would work. What he planned to do now that Psych was closed, and with a wedding ahead of them. (They had just gotten engaged, which was frightening enough, why did they have to think about the wedding already? Was there an expiration date to these kinds of things he didn't know about?)
And when he figured Gus would move off their couch and find his own place.
(Never, if it was up to Shawn, but Shawn had learned years ago that, with Juliet in his life, it wasn't up to him anymore.)
He hadn't thought about it yet.
Truth was, he had thought about it. And then pushed it into that abandoned corner of his mind with the images of his grandma’s last day and his mother gagged and strapped to a bomb in that freaking drive-in cinema. (Back there were also the goings-on during the days leading up to and especially the morning of his surgery when he was four, and which he told everyone he couldn’t remember.)
“This is your chance for a change,” Juliet said.
He was surprised how much that thought terrified him. He hadn’t noticed how complacent he had become.
(He had noticed, Yang had told him to his face before dying in his arms, and still he chose to ignore it.)
“A new beginning.”
“I don’t suppose you mean like Jason?”
“No, definitely not like Jason.”
“You know, when I was 12 I kinda looked like Tommy Jarvis a bit.”
“I can assure you that you are still sane and sound.”
“So Zombie Jason it is, then.”
Her smile always made him forget about things.
(But he would have to choose a better subtitle. Something like “Shawn Takes San Francisco”. The reckoning.
Yeah, that sounded much better.)