Gus sat down at his table, ready to enjoy a homemade meal consisting of leftover spaghetti and the less home-made deep fried chicken. He held a piece of chicken between his fingers, his mouth open in anticipation of the greasy goodness.
With a start, the chicken fell back to the plate as someone's fist repeatedly pounded on Gus's small apartment door. Jumping to his feet in fear, he waited to see what would happen next.
Bang, bang, bang! The knocks exploded out of the silence, Gus's hands finding the closest weapon available.
Gus inched towards the door, a spelling bee trophy cradled in his hands. The pounding came again from the other side, making Gus jump back in surprise. He took a look through the small peephole, having to take a double take as his brain tried to register what was on the other side. He flung it open, exposing an extremely dirty, agitated, scrawny man, who stood bouncing on his heels. His arm was in a sling, one eye bruised in the phases between a blackish purple and a yellowish green.
“I'm sorry...I didn't know...where else to go,” the figure spoke, Gus just staring in awe.
“Shawn?” Gus could only continue to stare as his friend- who had been MIA for the past eight years - collapsed in a limp heap on the floor, unconscious before hitting the ground.
6 months later -
“Come on, buddy!” Shawn leaped forward, watching as his friend attempted, (and failed), to follow after, his friend tripping against his shoelaces, which he had just realized had been tied together.
“Shawn? Shawn!” Gus cried out indignantly when he realized his friend was racing away without him.
“You snooze, you lose!” Shawn cried out, climbing into the passenger seat of the Blueberry, holding out the keys as his friend climbed in beside him.
“That wasn't very nice, you know,” Gus snorted, pulling his seat belt on. For a moment, Shawn sat with his eyes closed, remaining very, very still.
“Shawn?” Gus prodded, half afraid of what might awaken.
“Hm?” today, Shawn just turned to blink over at Gus, “oh, yeah, like I was saying...”
“Shawn, you weren't saying anything.”
“Yeah, before we got in the car, my little Gust-a-lonie,” Shawn was back, a smirk covering his face. Any sign of distress had disappeared off his face, just the way he wanted it.
“You were saying?” Gus decided it was easier to just go with it, rather than fight it. Fighting it means one of two things – you get in an argument where neither side will ever win, or Shawn runs. He didn't want to push Shawn into running again, especially considering the condition he came back in the last time he ran.
Gus suppressed shivers at the thought.
“I was telling you about this new laser tag joint that's opened up, right next to Maggie's!” Shawn declared loudly, naming off their all time favorite diner.
“Shawn-” before Gus's protest could be fully acknowledged, (and then probably promptly ignored), Shawn's cell phone buzzed in his pocket.
“This is the office of Psych, where all your psych filled dreams can come true,” Shawn answered the phone, Gus rolling his eyes.
“Mr.Spencer, I need to see you and Mr.Guster at my office,” the chief pretended to ignore the informal greeting.
“Ai-ai, chief!” He saluted, even though he knew she couldn't see him. Ending the call, he turned back to his best friend.
“Gus, onwards, to the SBPD!” Shawn pointed with his phone, Gus rolling his eyes as he shifted his car into drive.
The station was bustling as Shawn and Gus made their way to the Chief's office, Shawn noting the little details he was positive his friend was missing. The first “office”, or really desk, he noticed that since yesterday a new picture frame had been added to the desk. Upon further notice, he realized that the officer typing silently behind the desk could hardly sit still, her foot bouncing as if in anticipation, her eyes continuously flicking towards the gem glimmering around her finger. He took a glance towards the photo, a man hugging her from behind.
The next desk over was less revealing, until he noticed a newly purchased gym bag sitting beside a newly purchased pair of tennis shoes. The hilt of a racket was just beginning to show, tossed on the floor in a jumbled mess as if in tired ignorance.
The last desk made Shawn smile slightly to himself. This is gonna be so much fun.
“Congratulations on your engagement, you make such a lovely couple,” Shawn nodded towards the first officer, her face containing a look of pure joy that moved to shock as she realized she hadn't said a word to the man already moving on to the next desk.
“Tennis, my man, you gotta tell me, is it for the ladies or for the sport? Never mind, don't answer, I think we all know,” Shawn winked, the man starting to gesture towards Shawn with a fist bump before he realized that he barely even knew who the man standing before him was.
Finally, Shawn came to stand before the last desk, the figure sitting behind it not having noticed it yet.
“Don't even start, Spencer!” the figure attempted to cut him off, but was too late.
“-have a date tonight, Lassie?” the whole office fell silent. Only Shawn had the audacity to flat out confront the head detective.
“As a matter of fact, I don't believe that concerns you,” Lassiter replied, close to spitting. He let his hand rest on the hilt of his gun, even though the logic in his head told him it wouldn't work. It, of course, didn't, if anything, the gesturing threat only encouraged the psychic's asinine antics.
“I would definitely go with the blue tie, it will make your little eyes pop right out, don't you agree, Gus?” Shawn was already turning to head back towards his original destination.
“No comment,” Gus crossed his arms, head high as he passed Shawn to knock on the Chief's door.
“Come in!” came a muffled reply, Shawn promptly stepping in past Gus.
“Chief, you have summoned us!” With both hands in the air, he walked across the room, falling back into the chair sideways.
“Mr.Spencer!” the chief warned, pointing for Gus to shut the door.
“What can we do for you, Chief Vick?” Gus flicked Shawn in the head to make him sit up, the two of them grumbling at each other under their breaths.
“A-hem, gentleman, if I might interrupt.” Both men froze, turning towards her.
“If I might have both of your attentions for a moment, this meeting is of a rather...serious, nature.”
“I'm sorry, Chief, we're listening,” with one last shoulder shove to Shawn, Gus folded his hands in his laps, turning toward the impatient chief of police.
“Yes, alright,” she pushed a file towards them. Shawn snatched it off the table before Gus could so much as take a glance at it, already flipping through it, “that is what we need help with.” Gus looked towards her, waiting for her to continue, but came to the realization that the chief was no longer interested in speaking. She was waiting to see a reaction.
He turned his attention back to Shawn, who had stopped flipping, his fingers pinching a page tightly. His overly cheerful mood had dropped to nothing other than blackness, his face falling, but before Gus and the Chief had any real time to decide what they were seeing, he snapped the file shut.
“I...don't think we can be of assistance on this case,” he plopped it back on the desk, turned and walked out.
“Mr.Spencer!” she shouted after him, but it was too late.
“What is it?” Gus scooped the file up, the chief sighing. He flipped open the file. It was – with no other words to use – bad. Very bad.
“Nathan Coligan, he escaped from prison last night. He was serving a life sentence for thirteen counts of human trafficking, which is the only a small portion of what we believe he actually did,” the Chief sighed.
“So you need us to hunt him down?” Gus turned to hand the file back, surprised to find the Chief holding something out to him as well. It was a picture.
“I wanted to know if Shawn remembered anything before showing him this. That is one of the consultants that put Coligan behind bars just over 6 months ago.”
“There must be something...wrong, Chief,” Gus blinked blankly at the photo.
“I don't think so, Mr.Guster.”
Gus looked between her and photo a moment before glaring at the photo as if to make it disappear from his scrutiny. Two hazel eyes stared back at him, a familiar smile plastered to his face, the picture looking like it had been taken for some sort of security badge.
The Chief leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms.
As much as Gus looked on in disbelief, he had to acknowledge that it was a photo of Shawn.
“So...” Gus didn't know what to say.
“It gets worse.” Gus blinked, looking up.
“Worse? What do you mean 'worse'?” Gus finally managed to tear his gaze away from the photo.
“The other three consultants that worked the case with him were all found dead this morning.”