Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shawn didn't see it coming. Well, he saw something coming. Not what happened after.

All he did was try to get the murderer with the orange bandana tied to his arm to move. The car speeding down the street from the rival gang was going to hit them head on. Shawn had no choice but to jump out of the way as the car hit the angry murderer with a purpose.

Shawn never thought this case would go this far. Two simple murders turned out to be two in a large gang war happening right under the cops' noses. One thing led to another and Shawn had a gun pointed at his head and a car headed straight for them. There was one thing he was glad about, at least he caught one of the suspects.

The murderer had his back turned to the car, not believing Shawn that the car was coming towards them. It was a hybrid car accelerating silently, electrically, and it's headlights were off. The murderer didn't notice it until Shawn jumped away and he turned around with no time to spare. The gunman was hit head on.

The driver of the car obviously wasn't too experienced with hitting people, and he lost control. The car swerved, hit a curb, and flipped multiple times. The trunk popped open in the carnage and a large barrel of some chemical, certainly used to manufacture drugs, was thrown out. The barrel exploded on impact and the barrel splashed all over the road, dousing Shawn. The car smashed straight into an electrical pole, making it lean precariously.

Shawn was still laying in the middle of the street, laying on his back grasping his shoulder, which he bruised while landing. It all happened so fast. First, the chemical splashed all over the place, making a huge pool and getting all over Shawn. Then, the heavily damaged car leaning sideways against the power pole moved. Shawn didn't even think anyone could survive that crash, but they did. The driver shoved the airbag out of the way and tried moving the car again. Still caught on the power pole, it reversed. That was too much for the power pole. The pole came down, wires snapped and flung back onto the ground, and a jolt of electricity went through everything touching the chemical puddle for just a split second, and that everything was mostly just Shawn. After that, all went dark.

He woke up in the back of an ambulance. Well, waking up was a bit of a subjective statement. It was more like coming to dazed half-consciousness. His whole body was in immense pain, and that said nothing for the headache he had. Every bump the ambulance hit sent waves of pain through his head, and he shut his eyes and focused on shutting the pain out.

Over the sound of the siren he could hear voices talking over each other. Some were real, some Shawn thought he was only imagining. There were too many sounds, and he couldn't make any words out. Anyways, the noise made his head hurt worse. After a while, he passed out.

It was hours later when he finally woke up, sore all over and with a stabbing headache. He could hardly think for a few seconds, but the pain soon subsided and he quickly came to.

A nurse was checking on him, writing some things down on a clipboard. He looked around, noting that outside the sky was starting to brighten. It was morning. He studied the room, nothing notable there. Standard hospital room, standard hospital bed. He could feel his analysis was slow and incomplete, and he was definitely not on the top of his game right now. The nurse glanced at him then stepped out. A minute later, a doctor walked in.

"Good morning, Mr. Spencer. I'm Dr. Lawson. How are you feeling today?"

"I'm a little sore," Shawn replied. "I hate to be cliche, but how long was I out?"

The doctor smiled slightly at the joke. "It's just past six. You got a huge shock, and paired with your concussion, it kept you out for a while."

"And when can I leave?" He really didn't want to be in here. A nagging feeling hung in the back of his mind. He didn't want to be here. He needed to go solve the case. He could solve it.

The doctor looked at the papers the nurse was writing on a second ago. "You got struck with the voltage of live power lines. Because nobody saw it happen, we're not sure if you got hit with the full voltage or if it was dampened from traveling through the ground. That doesn't change the fact that you got a major shock, which can cause health issues that might show up later, so I'd prefer to keep you here for another day or two. That's not even accounting for the chemical we still haven't been able to identify that you were doused with. We've detected small quantities of it in your bloodstream." He wrote a couple notes on his clipboard. "We've been checking on you all night and luckily nothing was out of the ordinary. With an electric shock like that, you're lucky to get off okay with nothing but a few bruises and a minor concussion." The doctor looked at the papers on the clipboard once again. "I'm amazed your heart's still beating," The doctor mumbled under his breath. Or did Shawn just imagine that? With all the sounds of distant voices in his head and the headache growing, he was still a little out of it and didn't like it.

"I'm not staying here any longer. I've got things to do."

"I can't force you to stay, but it's best if you do."

As Shawn sat up, a wave of pain rushed through his head. In his mind came an image of last night. Some vague, unclear, half-conscious memory, he guessed. The car was almost scrap, and it drove off with the speed of a three-legged turtle, but it escaped. He had to catch them, and solve this case. "I need to get out of here. I'm leaving."

A few hours later, Shawn was back at the Psych office with a big headache, ibuprofen that wasn't helping one bit, and a concerned Gus. The headache was growing more painful by the minute. The doctor said there was only a minor concussion, but Shawn could've been fooled. The front of his skull felt like it was going cave in. Coupling that with the soreness in all of his muscles, he felt absolutely miserable.

He was laying on the couch, trying to sleep the pain away, cause the pain pills weren't working on the headache. At least his shoulder felt better, and the soreness was fading away. But he could practically feel the worry Gus was having. Sometimes he'd want to be worried about, if not only to convince people to be his personal food deliverers, but this time was different. It couldn't be joked away or taken advantage of. He didn't know why. Something was just wrong and Shawn couldn't stop thinking about it and he just wanted this damn pain to get out of his brain and forget about the whole situation.

"Gus, don't be a burned grilled cheese sandwich. I was basically struck by artificial lightning. Can I just sleep it off in peace?"

Gus glared at him. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, but you're thinking things," Shawn said.

"Listen, you got an electric shock that should've killed you instantly, and in your post-shock delirium made sure the hospital called nobody to check on you. Not to mention checking out AMA. Of course I'm worried, Shawn."

"Don't you dare tell my dad about this. Actually, don't tell anyone. Don't say you weren't thinking of it 'cause I know you were. We keep it between us." Shawn had more vague memories flash in his mind about what happened after the pole fell, coinciding with each wave of pain. He saw two people limp over to the body of the man they rammed and killed, loaded him in the back seat, and drove off (which was the part he "saw" earlier). It was another maybe five minutes before another car drove by and called an ambulance. Nobody knew what happened until that very morning when he called Gus for a ride. He still wished he could've gotten out of there without telling anyone, but with the hospital bill he needed to pay, even a short taxi ride would be too expensive. He put his hands to his temples to at least try to dull the stabbing feeling.

"Maybe I should tell someone. Someone that can knock some sense into your head. You nearly died!"

The discussion of mortality was definitely not something Shawn wanted to think about. "Its a bad idea to knock anything into a concussed head, Gus. Didn't you read that pamphlet they gave me? Anyways, until we can get to the laundromat on the north end of State Street, we're keeping this between ourselves."

"What laundromat? What are you talking about?"

Shawn sat straight up, bringing a short but strong wave of dizziness, and the headache faded away in a flash as the knowledge came to his mind. "Money laundering. They chose a laundromat because they thought it would be so obvious, nobody would think to look into them. Genius!" He hopped off the couch, still a bit dizzy and stumbled before it subsided.

Gus loaded up maps on his laptop to look for the laundromat. "Do you even know what money laundering means?"

"I gotta get over there, the first gang is coming to get revenge for the guy the laundromat dudes killed." Shawn pulled his phone out to call Juliet, Lassiter, or whoever, then grabbed his motorcycle helmet and ran out the door.

Gus went running after him. "Shawn! Wait up! You need rest!" In fact, Gus did read the pamphlet on concussions, and really tried babysitting Shawn, but he knew it was useless when they were on a case. Shawn was gone in a flash, not surprising. He had a case to solve, and clearly had a breakthrough, and you can't stop him when he gets to a big breakthrough.

Gus got in his car and drove after him. Dealing with Saturday summer tourist traffic was not gonna be easy. He wished he had a motorcycle too right now.

Meanwhile, Shawn was on the phone with Juliet (quite a feat while speeding down a busy street between traffic on a motorcycle) telling her what had to happen. "These guys are riled up. If you charge in there, it'll be a war zone. Get some undercover guys, I have a plan."

"Wait, you're not going in there and being a showoff today? Impressive."

"Jules, trust me. This vision is one of the strongest I've ever had. Oh, by the way, it's a laundromat, so make sure the disguises are laundromat-y."

"Okay, I'll get things set up. Don't do anything reckless before we get there."

"Not this time. See you there." He hung up and continued dodging traffic all the way up to the store. He beat the cops there by a few minutes. He could've easily just went in and done what he usually does, but he trusted his knowledge. He had no clue how he got all the info about the place. Maybe the doctors really were wrong the severity of his concussion. Or maybe the electric shock messed with his brain. Either way, it was incredibly unsettling to not remember. It didn't matter though; he had a bad feeling about this place all around. Those missing memories must be locked away somewhere in his head, he just couldn't consciously remember them.

The cops soon showed up. An undercover van with two plain-clothes officers plus Juliet and Lassiter in a van. Four squad cars parked a little down the street. They all gathered in a parking lot across the street from the laundromat. The laundromat itself was the biggest unit in a row of shops right against the sidewalk, the parking was in the back of that building.

Shawn closed his eyes and put his hand to his head in his signature psychic pose, and pictured the laundromat. "There are only three of the guys inside. It's weird there's only three, but makes it easier for us. They're in the gang that wears the skull rings." He could only see one guy inside through the window, but he was certain there had to be two others. Trying to remember where he got that knowledge just gave him vertigo, so he ignored it for now.

"The Reapers," Juliet interjected.

Shawn nodded. "One is fixing a washing machine. Two are in the back room. If your guys can get the maintenance dude then draw out one of the guys in the back, you won't have any trouble."

Lassiter shook his head. "There is no way you know all this. We're gonna do it my way."

"I'm serious. These guys are waiting for some of the orange bandana gang to come in and shoot the place up. And the orange bandanas have a couple of guys on the way. If you go charging in there, you're going down in a storm of bullets. And Lassie, I'm sure that's the way you'd want to go, but I don't think the office can go without your general angry aura."

"Are you really sure about this? Seriously sure?" Juliet asked.

Shawn was completely serious. Closing his eyes, he focused on those odd memories he couldn't remember and tried to keep his balance. "I can see it all. You have to get them one by one. And I'm sure you'll find a case of illegal guns in that back room too."

"If it's true, we can lock these people up on dozens of charges." It was Lassiter's voice Shawn heard. He was looking away from the stern-faced detective as he heard those words.

"That's right Lassie, dozens of charges, including the original murder that got us into this mess," Shawn replied.

Juliet looked at her partner, who was clearly hiding a surprised glare, then back at Shawn. "Okay, I believe you."

"What, did I say the magic words?" Shawn asked half-rhetorically with a smirk.

Lassiter walked to the van with a scowl. Juliet smiled, still impressed. "He mentioned something like that on our way here. Don't rub it in his face until after we finish up here."

Shawn kept up his aloof mask as best he could, but the seriousness of the situation, and the constant dull pain in his skull, was quite the distraction. "He can have all the credit as long as I can run this thing." Knowing that was just slightly too serious for his character, he added, "maybe he can get the leftover box of jellybeans I left in Gus' glove box as a prize. But that's as far as I'll go. I can't promise the Milk Duds. And the Skittles are strictly off limits."

Lassiter walked back over with communication equipment in hand. "Fine, if your all-seeing eye showed you exactly how to do this, you better prove it."

"Then I hope you like the tropical mix, Lassie. Now, I need paper and a pen. Or colored pencils. Crayons are negotiable."

Juliet gave him a pen and a notepad, while Lassiter passed out discreet earpieces so Shawn could direct them from outside.

Shawn stared into the windows to study the details, noting one man fixing a washer and the general layout visible from across the street. He then drew the layout of the small building, putting together the images he got of it in his head. He shut his eyes and focused on those images, and they got more vivid, revealing more of the fine details. He smiled, feeling more confident in his messed-up memory than ever, and ignoring the fact he never went inside that building. He marked the location of the three men in the gang on his map, not sure why he thought they were in those spots, but it just felt right.

With one last look at his sketch, he was satisfied. "Gather round, everyone. The spirits have shared their knowledge!"

The two undercover officers who were holding duffel bags stood right next to the detectives. Shawn recognized them as officer Chambers, a short guy with a scruffy beard purposely scruffed up more than usual for his disguise, and officer Adams, much taller and more threatening looking than his partner. He hardly knew them, but he could tell they could do this just fine.

"Okay, here's how the spirits say it'll work. Chambers, Lassie, you go in and get a quick and quiet arrest on the guy fixing a machine." He pointed at the little X he put down on the paper. "He's pretty new to the gang, and I have the feeling he'll just take what's coming to him. Chambers, take care of sticking him in a car, Lassie, get ready to be backup. The other two, not so much. Adams, Jules, you'll walk in and pretend to start laundry while the first arrest happens. You'll have to get one guy alone, maybe to help you work the machine or something. He probably won't be quiet about it, so once you guys got him cuffed, get ready for danger. Lassie, bring everyone you've got and charge into that office and get the third guy quick, cause we have maybe fifteen minutes before the rival gang shows up." The sharp pain in his forehead came back with a vengeance, and the whole world started to spin. He couldn't even think of a feigned psychic vibe attack to hide it. He just shut his eyes tight and placed both hands on the table and just hoped he looked like he was in a bout of psychic meditation.

Lassiter hid his face of amazement. Spencer did a perfect job explaining the plan, as if he actually paid attention to real briefings sometimes. (He didn't know that Shawn actually did pay attention, instead ignoring proper protocol in the name of his psychic act.) The rest of the crew looked to him, as if to silently ask for confirmation. "You heard him. Let's get going."

And just like that, the plan was in motion. Shawn recovered pretty quickly and hopped in the back of the van, guiding everyone along. He had a bad feeling about this. His plan was too perfect, that was it. Clearly something just had to go wrong. That was standard, right? That's what gave him the bad feeling. Just standard pattern recognition, he told himself. The first arrest occurred exactly as planned. As Adams was about to draw out the second guy, Shawn told them to hold off.

"Shawn, what are you doing?" Juliet asked silently into the hidden mic.

"There's a back exit, the third guy's going to run once he hears what's going on. Someone get back there, quick!"

"Got it," Lassiter said. Through the cameras on the van, Shawn saw the detective signal some uniformed officers to follow him around back.

"Okay, we're good. Plan can continue," Shawn said into his walkie.

The second guy was drawn out and detained. He yelled for his partner to run, just as Shawn predicted. But his escape was blocked.

Shawn hopped out of the van. The squad cars pulled up, lights flashing, to the front of the laundromat. Soon enough, the place would be searched. When the orange bandanas would drive by, they'd just turn and run after seeing the cops swarming the place. He watched the scene for one minute more, and saw the third guy being dragged to a squad car, looked him down, and noticed his various fresh cuts and bruises.

And missing all the action, Gus finally pulled in. He took a quick look at the scene before hopping out of his car. "Shawn, what did you do?" he asked as he walked over.

"Once again, I saved the day," Shawn boasted. "I bet those guys are gonna make a deal and rat out the rest of the gang."

"Seriously, what even happened?"

"I'm on fire today! I got to tell everyone what to do. Even Lassie listened to my plan." He smirked. "Undercover operation," he added in a bragging tone.

Gus laughed at that. "No way. Your brain really did get totally fried last night. There's no way anyone would let you direct anything, especially not Lassie."

"He was impressed Gus. He would never admit it, but he was. Maybe we should get some smoothies to celebrate."

There was no way. Gus didn't believe Shawn could make a plan that clean without pulling some ridiculous stunts in the middle. And Lassiter would never let him be in charge, ever. So Gus was suspicious. "Smoothies sound good right now. Why don't you go get us some while I catch up with everyone?"

"Go brag to everyone for me. No, actually, we don't need to. Look at their gazes." Shawn walked off with a nefarious smile, leaving Gus to wonder what was actually in everyone's gazes and what he even meant by that. Shawn was definitely acting strange today, like he was distracted. He wasn't making as many jokes as usual, and he looked like he was keeping up appearances. He was clearly hiding something. Gus imagined it was that concussion messing with him, or possibly something more was on his friend's mind. The smoothie shop was right down the street, so Gus had maybe ten minutes to talk to everyone alone, just to see if someone else picked up on how Shawn was acting.

"You're a bit late to the party, Guster," Lassiter said.

"Shawn's motorcycle is a real life cheat code," Gus said. "Traffic was awful. What even happened here?"

Lassiter looked over Gus' shoulder, seeing Shawn walking away from the scene. He could talk freely now. "He took it seriously. He made a plan, stayed in the background, and let us do the dirty work without interfering. What did you do to him last night?"

He couldn't just say, "Well, after we finished getting pizza, Shawn went out hunting for a murderer and got himself electrocuted." So he just shrugged. "He's been like this all morning. He had some psychic vision and ran out on me to come here, hardly explaining anything. Did you notice him acting strange at all? At least, strange for him?"

"Whatever it is, it's preferable to his normal antics. Don't bring attention to it, I don't think he realizes he's not bothering us to his normal degree and would like to keep it that way."

"Carlton!" Juliet scolded her partner. "It really was impressive," she said to Gus, "he was good, real good. He lead us through the plan like a pro. His psychic information was accurate as ever." She paused and looked down the street. "But he was too good for him. Usually he can't help but show off, or make endless jokes for attention. He was impressively serious this time."

"That's what I thought," Gus said. Great, he's gonna blow his cover at this rate. "I'll talk to him when he gets back. He's having a... big psychic event. Go do your thing for now, and don't worry about him. He'll just pick up on it."

Meanwhile, Shawn was halfway to the smoothie shop. The noon traffic of people walking by was not unusual. He noticed everything about everyone he walked by of course. The way the woman's purse was scuffed, the way that guy with the red shirt rubbed his chin, the teen girl struggling to unlock her beat up car. He practiced his deductions. The scuffed purse was caused by the woman tripping on a sidewalk pushed up by a tree root. The man had just gotten a fresh shave after having a beard for a while, and hadn't gotten used to it. The teen got her car from working all year at a craft store, and the lock was sticky, there was a sweet spot for the key to sit that she hadn't perfected. He did this quick-glance-to-deduction game often as a practice of his skills, but what he pictured today was much sharper, more detailed, and he was more certain about them. He had to stop, though, as it just made his head throb again.

He got to the smoothie place, but before ordering, sat down and gave the situation a moment of thought. A spilled chemical plus electricity. That could totally be a superhero origin story, couldn't it? His amazing observation skills were already superhuman enough (he thought as he noticed how one of the fluorescent lights was dimmer than the others, it would need to be replaced soon). He considered it was maybe making his concussion a really weird one. He didn't know what classifies a concussion as weird, but he guessed this was it. He certainly wasn't having any symptoms of it now, and they only came in very short bursts. Maybe the symptoms were accompanying his new boost in skills. Yeah, that must be it, he thought to himself. That plus a tiny bit of slightly unsettling memory loss. Just weird concussion antics.

He had to test it. He only went to get the smoothies in the first place because Gus clearly wanted to talk about him without him being there. He was certain his best, most trusted friend would keep last night's incident secret but he knew he was acting unusual enough for everyone to notice. He still didn't feel a hundred percent, even though his perception was better than ever. So he wanted to prove he was still good, still on his game. What flavor smoothie did Gus want? He looked at all the choices on the menu, closed his eyes and thought about it for a few seconds. He could just get Pineapple Party, as always. But what did Gus really want today?

That was an easy one. Even though they rarely hit this smoothie shop, Shawn already knew Gus chooses one of their two pineapple mixes when he was the one ordering. But which one of the two? Pineapple Twist or Pineapple Party? Shawn was more partial to Pineapple Party, it brought out the flavor of the pineapple better. But from what he saw in his friend today, he just had the feeling Gus was in a Pineapple Twist mood.

So, he would order for someone else. What would Juliet want? She clearly wouldn't mind a smoothie. She seemed to be in the mood for one. He studied the menu (not something he really needed to do, he had it memorized already, and also the menu decal on the board was peeling at the corner and really needed to be fixed), then thought about Juliet. For some reason, he focused on Mango Swirl. It just popped out at him.

Another tropical flavor, nice. He'd have to bring her into the pineapple club soon, though. He tried to find some sort of evidence that was what she really wanted. But all he had was the feeling that this flavor was just right.

He had one more person to order for. Lassie! This was another easy one, he hardly had to think at all before Pink Lemonade Blast had blasted in his mind.

Makes sense. Lassie never seemed like a big smoothie person anyways, and that smoothie wasn't as sweet as the rest. Perfect for him.

He got up and ordered smoothies for everyone, including Pineapple Party for himself. If he wasn't just guessing that everyone wanted smoothies, and if everyone is happy with the flavors, he really did have magically boosted skills. Or he just became psychic. A hilarious notion, a fake psychic becoming a real psychic! He laughed the thought away, but it never quite disappeared. He sat down to wait for the smoothies to be made, which helped when his vision blurred and he lost his balance as a result of his concentration. Soon, the smoothies were finished and he left the shop.

He walked back to the crime scene, this time doing his best not to think about the things he couldn't help but notice, lest it triggered more of those concussion symptoms. Gus was messing around on his phone while Juliet and Lassiter helped do crime-scene things that Shawn never paid attention to or stuck around for as that stuff was just too boring.

Shawn gave Gus his smoothie. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Gus shrugged. "I guess they found a few bags of money and some imported weapons, and they've got the drug dogs in there now." He took a sip of the smoothie. "Pineapple Twist? You never get me this!"

"You can't hide your twisty mood, and today I just had sympathy for it," he joked. "Were any of the three guys one of our murder suspects?"

"Yeah, the guy that tried to run. My guess is he was probably the guy that drove that car from last night you were talking about earlier. We also found out the name of the orange bandana gang, they're new on the streets and call themselves Hellfire."

"Sweet, I was right! And the dude was definitely the dude from last night, don't think I didn't catch how banged up he was." That was another point for epic skills. "I've got a couple more deliveries to make. Enjoy your paradise in pineapple."

He went and found Juliet. "The spirits are telling me you like mango," he said.

She smiled when she turned to see Shawn holding out a smoothie. "Tell the spirits thanks for me! This is just what I needed right now."

"The spirits don't lie. They're also telling me I should convert you to pineapple, but at least mango is in the sweet tropical goodness family." Two out of three guesses were correct. Now, he had one more smoothie. The ultimate test.

He went to where Lassiter was observing the drug dogs sniff around. "Special delivery for one Lassafrass McGrumps. It's not half a box of jellybeans, but I hope you can make do with this."

Lassiter grabbed it, sniffed it, took a quick sip and gave a tiny nod in satisfaction. "Thanks, Spencer," he said quietly and awkwardly before walking off. A clear success.

Shawn smiled. This was proving ground, and all went well. He was better than before. Skills were heightened and hopefully they were to stay. But how much of a boost did his skills get, he wondered? That was the real question here. That was the question that would show how much fun he could have with this. He stood back and watched the show, drinking his smoothie, avoiding Gus, and hoping for a chance to pet one of the dogs.

Chapter Text

Shawn finished his smoothie and wasn't allowed to pet any of the drug dogs. The gang crime unit had arrived to take over the scene and therefore the case, so he had nothing else to do. He didn't really want to do anything else about it anyways, he had other things to worry about. Not only did all this action bring back his soreness from the electric shock, but it also totally exhausted him with some pretty bad brain fog. At least bad for him. He couldn't focus on many fine details, which really bothered him.

For some reason, all he could focus on was one officer in particular, doing traffic control. He recognized her. It was Officer Laurens, he never spoke with her but did see her around the office. She was standing in the middle of the road, just past the intersection, guiding traffic around the scene. He looked far down the road, and his focus was drawn to a particular silver car that had no reason to stand out at all. He couldn't even see the driver from this distance. The rest of the world seemed to blur, but this car seemed crystal clear.

Something was wrong with that car. Traffic began to move, and Shawn jaywalked across the street towards the officer. Traffic slowly maneuvered around her, and as the silver car came closer, Shawn saw consciously what he was seeing subconsciously. The driver was wiping his forehead with his sleeve and panting. Then, he slumped forward. The car continued forward. Officer Laurens was just finishing guiding the bunch of cars from the last light cycle, and didn't notice the silver car wasn't slowing down.

Shawn pulled the officer over to the sidewalk with seconds to spare. The silver car, now deviating off course, ran right over where she was standing, and sideswiped three patrol cars parked in the right lane before coming to a stop rear-ending a fourth. For just a second after, the whole scene froze in shock.

"He's having a heart attack!" Shawn immediately yelled, breaking everyone out of their surprised states. It was a random guess, the clear medical emergency the guy was having could be many things, but Shawn was incredibly certain of it this time. The officers at the scene ran over to the car to administer aid. One of them called for an ambulance on the radio.

Suddenly, pain. Shawn reeled back against a building wall and grasped his head in his hands. The sharp stabbing pain was dizzying and nauseating. But like before, it only lasted a good ten seconds before fading away completely. When he came out of it, he noticed the officer he saved had her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay? I wanted to thank you for saving my life, but now I need to know if I need to return the favor," she said nervously.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a psychic... thing. Wow, words sure aren't wording right now." He gave a quick shake of his head and a glance around, noting Gus rushing over, then turned back to the officer. "Well, it was a psychic thing. Same as it ever was. It's Officer Laurens, right?"

She nodded. "Katie Laurens. I've helped with the aftermath of some of your cases, like I was doing just before this," she said, gesturing at the crash scene. "But I've never seen your powers firsthand. That was impressive."

Shawn could hear a tiny tremor in her voice, see her try to hide her shaking from the shock of nearly getting slammed into by the car. He suspected she probably didn't consider that what he did wasn't that impressive, he was just the only person who was paying attention. Not to blame anyone else for not having his skill of course. "What can I say, my powers have no bounds."

At that moment, Gus made it across the street and yanked Shawn away from the conversation. "I saw that. And I don't mean that heroic rescue. You're not fine, don't even try saying you are."

Of course, Shawn was prepared for the confrontation. "Okay, you saw me double down in pain. That's fine. But I am fine now," he said. "I'll take a little pain in trade for being at the absolute top of my game."

"Hold on, what do you mean?" Gus asked accusingly.

"My skills are sharper than they've ever been! I guessed everyone's smoothies. Exactly what they wanted. Or didn't know they wanted. I picked out that silver car before I even saw the driver. I can't remember where I got all the laundromat info, but that doesn't matter cause I ran the operation perfectly too!" Shawn exclaimed.

Gus shook his head. "Nope. I can see it all in your face. You're not hiding it this time. You're not fine and you don't want to admit it."

Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. Gus was right. He hit his limit. The adrenaline that hid it was wearing off fast. He was going to crash at this rate. "Okay, Gus. Maybe, just maybe, I am a teeny bit tired out. I blame getting struck with ten billion volts."

"Not to mention the concussion. And power lines are only a few thousand volts, by the way. If you actually listened to the hospital's pamphlet and rested you'd actually start healing."

"I read it. Considered it. But you know that it can't stop me. It warned me of what to expect anyways." In a mocking tone, he continued. "'With a concussion, you may find yourself with confusion, difficulty focusing...' whatever. At the rate it was going, I thought it would tell me I'll find myself behind the wheel of a large automobile asking 'well, how did I get here?' The point is, I saved the day, no big gang shoot-up happened, and now I can leave and go rest to make you happy."

"Good, let's go," Gus said. He started walking off, and Shawn followed, but also protested.

"I took the motorcycle, remember? What am I gonna do, shove it in the back of the blueberry? Listen, you may ask yourself, 'where is that large automobile?' There isn't one, Gus!"

Gus sighed. "Okay, fine, stop quoting that weird song." They dodged the growing traffic jam and got to the Blueberry parked across the street. Gus hopped in and rolled the window down. "Listen, if I don't see you back at the office soon, I'll tell Juliet about the incident."

"I promise, okay? Don't worry, I'm really done here. I'll just check to make sure I'm not needed then go. And come on, that song is a jam! I can't get it out of my head."

"We'll talk about the intricacies of Talking Heads back at the office, where I will see you." Gus started the car. And the moment he did, the familiar bass line of Once in a Lifetime blasted on the radio. Gus did a double take at Shawn and the radio. "Did... did you plan that?" "I swear, you better not have called the radio station!"

Shawn barely contained a laugh. "That was pure luck! Though, calling the station is a great idea, I'll use that one day." Suddenly, he got dizzy once again and balanced himself against the car, but played it off as nothing, simply ignoring his vision spinning and going fuzzy. "I also didn't know you were that good at ventriloquism, why didn't you tell me?"

"Okay, that's it, you're getting in this car. You're in no state to drive that bike," Gus demanded. "Now I know what you mean by top of your game."

"Hmm, not happening. The gas fumes will probably knock me out if I'm within a hundred feet," Shawn said. His brain was fogging up more now, sending him down to the level of an average human being's level of perception and non-energetic-ness (the horror!) and raising his lack of focus to new heights. "I'd much rather just go sit under the shade of a tree. You know what, that's exactly what I'll do." He stumbled over to a nearby planter with a tall tree in the middle and sat down with his back leaning against it. "Go on without me, Gus. Trust me, I'll be fine if I just sit here a minute!"

Gus gave him a concerned gaze, but didn't push it. "Fine. But don't crash on the way back. It's scary enough to hear when you say you're at the hospital. I don't want to hear it from anyone else." They both knew what that last sentence implied.

The car left the lot, and Shawn was now alone under the tree, waiting for the world to stop spinning. It wasn't very quiet or peaceful, being at the edge of a parking lot, but it was good enough. Once again, it was a very speedy recovery.

There was a bit of a pattern here. Shawn couldn't help but notice. The symptoms were only showing up when he used his skills. Whether it was just his normal skills or his enhanced ones, he couldn't pick out yet. But it was without a doubt caused by that. But he thought, what about the more random times it showed up? He counted those times. Everything from the hospital to the Psych office didn't count, he was still messed up for a bit then. He could pick out the obvious connections in the plan and the deductions. The car crash too. But what about the song thing, he wondered? Or the smoothie guesses? Those both gave him bouts of vertigo. With the smoothies, maybe he was just thinking too hard about the guesses.

The song was what confounded him. Why would a crazy coincidence of a song mess with him? Or maybe it was Gus suddenly being a master ventriloquist.

Actually, lots of people were being master ventriloquists today. And Shawn couldn't think of an explanation.

He got up and walked back towards his motorcycle, getting stopped by Juliet on the way.

"Shawn, are you okay? You're looking a little..."

"Long night, Jules," Shawn replied. "Just tired. Don't worry about me, worry about the scene! Look at this, you've got some big time gang members that I sense will spill all the beans, every last tiny little pinto bean, for a plea deal. At least one of them will." That was still a total guess, but it still made his brain sting. He had to remember to stop doing that.

Juliet studied his face, seeing if she could figure the tricky psychic out. "It might be the light, but your eyes look a little dilated. Are you really okay?"

Shawn had to make something up quick. And it turns out, that was easy. He realized that unless the vehicular-homicide-committing gang member confesses to a murder, the cops don't actually know about the real event last night. And just like that, he had an out, and he had just enough energy left to do it.

He started with staring into the distance, "It's the spirits. They're guiding me." Looking back towards the scene, he spotted the squad car the beat-up gangster was in the back of. Lassiter was questioning one of the others first, so the cars hadn't left for the jails. Shawn ran over to the car and dramatically flopped over on his back on top of the trunk. "Yes! There's a connection!"

"What do you mean, connection?" Juliet asked, intrigued.

"The guy in the car, he killed someone last night. But he took the body! He locked it in the trunk!" Shawn jerked one hand around in a shaky motion. "I'm getting electricity. Lightning. Not real lightning! Something... something shocking!"

Lassiter heard the commotion and was immediately interested. He paused his questioning and paced over. "Hold on, are you saying these guys were involved with that one wreck from last night?"

"Oh, that hit and run with the power pole!" Juliet added.

Shawn paused his show. "Hold on, you know of that?"

"The guys working graves were talking about it when I came in," Lassiter said. "It knocked power out in a neighborhood for a few hours. They thought it was a simple drunk driving crash. Some guy got a shock from the downed lines, but the ambulance took him away before they even got there. They couldn't track down the ambulance. Hazmat teams got involved for a chemical spill."

"I saw the clip about it on the news," Juliet said. "Are you saying there was more to it?"

Shawn stood up and opened his arms wide. "He was standing with his back turned. Not the shocked guy, the dead guy." He pointed one hand forward. "Then, bang!" He clapped his other hand to it. "The body was taken away! The car flipped, that's why our guy here is all scraped up. I'm not sure which of these three is going to talk, but I promise you'll get something from one of them."

"Well, with the Gang Crimes Unit taking over here, we can check out the preliminary report for the crash once I wrap up here. If we can find any evidence in it that suggests that happened, we can investigate. He is our suspect and if he proves to be the murderer, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't stop at just one."

"Perfect. Lassie, what do you say? I think it'll help when I add that the missing dead guy is the suspect for our other murder."

Lassiter sighed. He didn't want to believe it. But the psychic was scarily accurate and detailed today, and he wouldn't admit how close to being convinced about the info (because he would never be convinced about the act) he was. "It's a massive stretch. There's nothing here connecting the events, and no real evidence. There are dozens of reasons someone could be injured like that, and gang activities are a big chunk of that. No body, no crime."

"No, you are not bringing that saying back!" Shawn looked over the three cars each holding an arrested gang member. Luckily, none of them were struck by the crashing car. He was running on autopilot now, focus suddenly laser-sharp on the one holding Jacob, the second guy that was arrested. His vision started to black out, but the squad car stayed bright. "It's Jacob, he's the one you should ask! He knows everything and he's gonna talk!" Shawn shouted out. He knows he knows he knows he knows repeated over and over in his head for the ten seconds this episode occurred. He fell back against the car trunk again, panting in exhaustion. It worked for the act, but wasn't one.

"Spencer, I was already planning on questioning him. The murder is still our case, Gang Crimes doesn't have that."

"That's true," Shawn gasped out. "But hurry up, the news said it'll rain tomorrow night. The evidence will be washed away."

Juliet was plenty convinced at least. "Well, I'm going back to the station to look at that report."

Shawn stood up and took out his motorcycle keys. "Looks like we've got this settled. I've got to get back to the Psych office or else Gus will go all Ed Rooney on me. Of course, that makes me Ferris Bueller and he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop me, but then he'd get all Cameron Frye when he can't stop me and we'd have to send his car into a ravine. I think I would rather watch that movie with him instead of reenacting it. Jules, call me when you find the evidence. Lassie... trust me on this one." Without waiting for a response, he ran back to his motorcycle and drove off.

"You know, I never thought to compare him to Ferris Bueller, but it's surprisingly accurate," Juliet said to her partner as Shawn rode away.

Gus was pacing the room. It had been a while and Shawn still wasn't there. He wasn't answering his phone either. Gus was starting to worry what his friend was up to, trying to think of everything that he could be doing that wasn't crashing his motorcycle. Thankfully, after a few minutes longer, Shawn came through the door, set his helmet down, then collapsed on the couch.

Of course, Gus didn't wait a second to voice his concern. "Shawn, what took you so long? Why weren't you answering your phone?"

Shawn pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Well, it's actually on this time. I guess I didn't hear it over the bike. Now, you wanted me to rest, so I'm going to do just that so I can finish this case up later."

"You know it's for your own good, right?"

"I know, but what do you expect me to do, not investigate? I can't just sit around and do nothing. There's a dead body I need to track down."

"You will sit around and do nothing for now. You're not fine, and if I can see that, you're way worse than you look. You don't want me to tell your dad about what you did, do you?"

There was no point in trying to play it off now. "You're right, okay? But I think it's a blessing in disguise. What happened last night ended up being a skill boost. I promise you, I really am fine on that front," Shawn said. "I just happen to have a few side effects when I use these enhanced skills. But it's no big deal, it's just the concussion, concussions heal. It sucks when it happens, and it is incredibly tiring."

And the mask was broken. "So, you will stay here for a while?" Gus asked in a concerned manner.

"Yes, I will," Shawn replied. "As much as it truly pains me to say it, I need to stop for a bit. At least until Jules calls for the case, of course."

"Okay, good." Gus knew it was time to stop pushing the subject, if only to not make Shawn feel vulnerable. Gus knew he hated it.

"Jeez, you gotta stop worrying. It's making my ears ring." Shawn looked at the TV, it was off. But when he looked at it, an odd visual snow danced across the blank screen. He squinted at it, and his mind wandered to two numbers: 16 and 37. 16 and 37? 16 and 37. 16 on 37. Sixteen on 37. "No way. Sixteen Candles is on channel 37! Turn it on, Gus!"

The excited urgency in his friend's voice made Gus jump into action without thought. He turned on the TV to 37, and like magic the movie was on. It had just started, too. "No way. How did you do that?"

"I don't know! I really don't know!" Shawn was in genuine glee to see the movie on screen after his wild guess just from random numbers that popped into his mind. That glee was cut off by the sudden stabbing pain right in the middle of his forehead, and he laid back on the couch. "Man, I've gotta stop doing that."

"Okay, I see what you mean now. And you're right, you should stop."

"Don't worry, I'm already two steps ahead of you." He did his best to do nothing but focus on the movie, even after the pain predictably faded away. It wasn't long before he fell asleep to it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Darkness, no dream. Just emptiness that he would forget about entirely. It was only a minute before the dark faded into dim light, a vivid, clear world.

And Shawn awoke within the dream.

Lucid dreaming was very rare for him, but common enough for him not to be surprised when it happened. His incredibly sharp memory paired with how he could picture things in his mind so strongly it was as if he was properly seeing it made for plenty of vivid dreams. Lucid dreaming is just one step above vivid dreaming.

It was a house in the foothills, surrounded by farmland. Mountains rose tall in the distance, shadows against the dark night sky. He had to remember the shape of the peaks. The house's garage door opened. A wrecked car pulled in at a crawl. A man was in the garage, and even from this distance, Shawn could tell he was very angry.

Two men climbed out of the car. The driver, the arrested man from earlier. The passenger, Shawn didn't recognize. Passenger's arm was coated in blood. Shawn remembered the tiny memory flash from that morning, the passenger only helped carry the body with his left arm. The right arm was sliced up, the shoulder looked dislocated.

The dislocation was proven correct. Garageman angrily shoved Passenger's arm back into place. The distant scream of pain echoed to where Shawn could hear. Driver yanked open the heavily damaged trunk. The body was in there.

Garageman helped Driver drag it out while Passenger went inside. But before Shawn saw what happened next, it all faded away.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Shawn woke up with the picture of that house in the mountains branded into his mind as if he stood right there in reality. He had to draw it. The picture was too strong. To Gus' confusion, he wordlessly stood up and rushed to his desk and immediately grabbed out a pencil and large notepad.

"Shawn, what are you doing?" Gus questioned.

Shawn was hyperfocused on getting that image drawn at this very moment. "Shh! Artist at work!"

Gus obliged and stayed quiet. He instead chose to watch the drawing come to shape.

A few minutes later, Shawn finished the sketch on his notepad. "That house. We need to find that house."

Gus stared at the sketch. It was good, but that wasn't that surprising. "What's up with that house? Where did you even see it?"

"I saw it in my dream," Shawn said matter-of-factually.

"A dream. You saw it in a dream. How hard did you really hit your head last night? You do remember you aren't a real psychic, right?"

"Gus, do you really think I actually believe I'm psychic? Yes I saw it in a dream, but it must be because I saw it somewhere else and I just can't remember it combo-mealy."

"Do you mean consciously?"

"I've heard it both ways."

"In what world would you hear it that way?"

Shawn completely ignored that last comment. "We need to bring this to Jules. I tell her I saw it in a dream, because I really did! I take her back to the crash location, use my being there for some more 'visions,' get some clues, and find this house!"

"Hold on, that's an awful plan," Gus said. "If she finds out it was you involved in the crash, she'll figure out your 'visions' aren't really visions. Soon enough we'll both be put in jail for everything we've lied about in the past two years."

"If she finds out, I'll just play memory loss. Easy. I'll have a psychic episode at the scene that she'll remember if she finds out. Don't worry, I've got it."

Gus hesitated, then decided fighting this plan would be useless. "Fine. But I'm driving."

Shawn tore the paper off the notepad. "Perfect! Let's go," he said, rushing out the door.

Gus grabbed his keys and rushed after him. It seemed his friend was mostly back after that quick 30-minute nap of his, but who knows how long that will last. The two hopped in the Blueberry and drove off.

Shawn didn't hesitate to hop out and dash into the police station the moment the car stopped. Gus didn't even have time to take off his seat belt before Shawn was already through the doors.

When Gus was caught up, Shawn was waiting in the back of the room. Juliet was none the wiser. "Shawn, what are you doing?" Gus whispered.

"She found something," Shawn whispered back. "It's perfect timing. Watch this." He pulled out his phone at the exact moment Juliet did. She called, and Shawn waited two rings to answer. "Hey Jules, what did you find?"

"You may be right about the rollover. Or at least about the car hitting something else before hitting the pole," Juliet said. "You should get down here and see what you can get out of this."

Shawn glanced at Gus with a mischievous grin. "I'll be there in two seconds!" He hung up and simply walked across the room.

By the time Juliet put the phone down, Shawn leaned over her shoulder and said, "So, show me what you've got." It successfully surprised her.

"Shawn, why do you do that?" She said.

"Do you really need to ask?" Shawn looked over the report displayed on the computer screen. Of course, it wasn't complete yet and didn't have much info. But it was enough, and luckily, had pictures.

What was obvious was the debris scattered all over. A car rolling multiple times into a pole would do that. The other obvious thing was the spilled chemical. It wasn't well photographed, so there was no telling if it would've washed away any bloodstains, especially after cleanup. Both were mentioned in the report's text. The final obvious thing was the dark, the most obvious of all. There wasn't any bloodstain mentioned in the report, so it could be discerned that either the body was crushed only on the inside, or the chemical washed over the blood and made it impossible to see. Everything else wasn't anything new.

"I'm not getting anything we don't already know," Shawn said. "We need to head to the scene so I can connect with the spirits. But first things first..." He took his drawing out of his pocket and set it on the desk.

Juliet looked at it. "A house?"

"I had a vision of this place. This is where they took the car and the body. If we can get on that car's trail, we can find the body."

"We still don't have proof it's connected, remember? Clairvoyance is inadmissible in court. This investigation will have to start as a simple hit-and-run investigation. Detectives don't usually get called into them unless it's fatal, and since we have no proof that it is, we'll need a good reason to be put on the case."

Static erupted in Shawn's nerves and his ears started ringing. The static practically dragged his hand to the phone.

"Shawn, what are you getting?" Gus asked, thinking it was just for show.

Shawn, with his hand flat on the face of the unit, could hardly hear over the ringing in his ears. Patterned ringing. And a voice, a very familiar voice, saying words he couldn't make out. The call was coming. The call they all needed. It all faded away, and Shawn zoned back in on the world with his ears feeling like they were about to explode. "Guys, we're about to get our good reason."

And just like that, the phone rang.

And the caller ID? It was that of one Detective Carlton Lassiter.

Chapter Text

There were many things Carlton didn't like. And so many of those things were happening now.

The least annoying of them were the Gang Crimes unit taking over this bust. Drugs, weapons, and money laundering all wrapped up into a sort of base station. Apparently, the attic was loaded with the stuff. And it was all on the busiest street in the city. With the arrest of two known high-ranking gang members and a third that was obviously about to lose his rank, it could lead to a gang being taken down. Something on this scale obviously was taken out of his hands.

Second, was the prospect of a new rival gang on the rise. With the two murders he was on the case of, they knew this new gang was creeping in on the Reapers' territory. And now they had reason to suspect that the new gang was far more bloodthirsty than he thought. Of course, he could do absolutely nothing about it now, but he hated the thought of gang crime in Santa Barbara. There were enough murders in this town already, but at least those were mostly for personal reasons. Gangs could harm far more innocents when they had their feuds. He trusted the Gang Crimes unit well enough to take care of it, which lessened the blow of the case being taken from him.

And third, the most annoying thing, was how Shawn Spencer uncovered it all. He started by figuring out the connection between the two murders. They already suspected one of the murders, the second one, was gang-related, as the dead man wore the signature skull ring of the Reapers. They were a well known gang. But Spencer somehow figured out all on his own in ways he called psychic. As usual.

The first murder happened on a street corner and looked like a random drive-by shooting, the second was two days later. But suddenly, once back at the station after returning from the second murder, Shawn had some "revelation" that the corner the first one happened on was gang territory. And sure enough, he was right. On the graffiti-coated wall of the building on the corner, there was a Reapers tag, small but just barely standing out from the rest. That's when they realized the orange bandana found sticking out of the first guy's pocket was a marker of his affiliation. And at the same time, that's when Shawn claimed that not only was the second one was a revenge killing, but also found out the dead guy wasn't the original killer at all with some vague alibi that was actually verified.

A bonus annoying point is that not only did Shawn uncover what turned out to be a likely connection, he suddenly got an impossible amount of info overnight for the case. This bust, of course, was the most of it. There was absolutely no way the faux-psychic could've found all of this out, Lassiter was sure of it.

This was bigger than the chop shop and ensuing drug trafficking case. This was huge. He noticed how serious Shawn was being. There was something in his eyes, a sharp, focused and determined look. It wasn't wholly unfamiliar, Lassiter had caught short glimpses of that look before. Usually it was seconds before a scene was caused by a "vision" that he of course didn't buy one bit. There was also a grimace clearly being hidden, but not totally invisible, behind that determination. Was it pain? Frustration? Confusion?

The absolute worst part of all this, which went beyond the realm of annoying, was that Jacob, the one gang member Shawn guessed would talk, did talk. He squealed like a pig. He spilled everything he knew the moment he was mirandized. Importantly, that included the confirmation to Shawn's incredibly wild and unfounded guess that the banged-up guy, who only gave his street name of Six, was in the aforementioned wreck. Of course, Jacob only overheard the story, but it was enough to open an investigation on the crash.

All he could do about this on his drive to last night's crash scene was sit and mope about it. He was alone in the car, as Juliet drove the van back to the station as he stayed at the laundromat. He had no one to complain to about the fact that a consultant did all of this. And not just any consultant, the most annoying, distracting, and scarily good at crime solving consultant the department had ever hired. There was simply no way Spencer could get all the information he gave, yet he still got it. And the way he stayed focused and relatively professional while guiding the operation was unprecedented. All under the guise of psychic ability.

Carlton was a skeptic to the highest degree. He didn't believe in psychics. He hoped this was a sign of Spencer slipping up, but he wasn't sure if he actually wanted to out the consultant. He used to, he really used to. But now he wasn't so sure. There were consequences he had only recently started to think about. He at least wanted to know the truth for himself, if anything. And if things continued this way, he may finally try to figure it all out this time.

Meanwhile in the Blueberry...

Gus drove, Juliet was in the passenger seat. Shawn was in the back, pretending to be "psychically meditating" on the house he saw in his dream. In reality, he was just mentally looking over the clues he noticed while in the house of the second murder. The real truth about sitting in the back seat was to hopefully have his grimaces in pain be harder to notice when he got to thinking about that house.

He recreated the scene in his mind, every last speck of dust was rebuilt in his imagination. First, he remembered the calendar. The one he got the alibi from. The date of the first murder was marked Dinner at Mario's, with Mario's turning out to be a restaurant. The restaurant wasn't a front for anything, so it cleared this guy from being the original murderer. Nothing else notable was on the calendar. Next, he remembered the notebook and a few post-it notes in the office, but nothing was found. Then, he focused on the computer. There was a message sent to an unknown email, encoded with clues to a meeting spot. Of course, he checked it out and that lead to the whole shock incident. That's it! It intended to be a trap for the Hellfire guy!

Wait, that could wait, Shawn thought. The email to the unknown address, the car being prepared to kill, it was all a setup! He felt he should've figured it out earlier, then blamed the concussion for that.

As he came to the realization, he couldn't drop the topic. He was too excited not to share. "I've got it!"

The car jerked as the sudden shout breaking the silence surprised Gus. "You know where the house is?"

"No, I'm not there yet. But I figured the crash out! Murder one, it was Hellfire trying to move in on Reaper territory. Obvious. Murder two, revenge from Hellfire, but the wrong hitman was murdered. Obvious again. But the Reapers weren't done with showing Hellfire who's boss."

Juliet looked to the back. "So you're saying you know the details of the connection?"

"I'm saying I solved the whole thing! Except for the body, I don't have that, but at least this time you believe in the crime. The second murder happened yesterday, before sunrise. That was Leo Ventura, a hitman for the gang, another thing we already knew. He was setting up a trap for another Hellfire, a fake drug deal. Obviously, that was screwed up by Leo unwillingly losing his ability to be alive. The Hellfire guy they attracted was Leo's murderer, Hellfire's hitman." He remembered that part from last night. He had a way of getting murderers to confess.

"So the crash happened, but Leo wasn't there. How did they get our missing Hellfire to stand where he needed to be?"

Shawn had to pick his words very carefully at this point. "The vision gets a bit fuzzy at this point. It's as if I'm looking through the eyes of the guy that got shocked. I can see the Hellfire pointing his gun, maybe he mistook that guy as a Reaper. Whatever it was, Leo wasn't there to be the bait he was planning on being. The Reapers in the car still hit the Hellfire. They lost control, they crashed, they ran. Simple." The vague mention of himself earned a warning glance from Gus through the rear-view mirror, but he was planting the seeds of cover story.

"That's a strange plan, but clever. If they didn't roll the car, the crash could've happened and they could've gotten away without a trace, not to mention a potential witness. If we can find whoever it was that got shocked, they'll be a key witness." Juliet said.

He went too far. That was a dumb idea. "I'll add him to my meditations, then. Which I will get back to. I just needed to solve this first." He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and put his fingers to his temples. Juliet shrugged and turned back forward.

He brought back that recreation of the room in his mind and checked those computer messages again. None of the ones he looked through while he was there had any info about the house. He broke away his focus from the computer and "looked" around the rest of the room, using his razor-sharp memory of the place to remember every detail he could. And on a crime scene, he did his best to focus on paying attention to everything.

That room had nothing. The living room had nothing. The bedroom, where the body laid on the floor, had a picture on the nightstand. It was a family photo, a younger Leo and some of his family in front of orange trees. A feeling of static burned in the back of his eyes when he pictured the photo. This was it. One man in the picture was Garageman, from his dream! Now he at least knew how his dream brain thought that guy up, along with the tree farm.

But as Shawn pictured the rest of the place, he could not find one bit of that house in his memory. Not one picture, not one map, nothing.

He took a deep breath and pictured the dream again. The dark night world. The mountain peaks. The surrounding farmland. Now that he remembered how they look, he could see, even in the dark, that the trees in the farmland were orange trees. It was an orange grove.

As he opened his eyes, a strong scent of oranges and a static sensation zapped through his nose. Pressure built through his skull, warning him to stop thinking about it. He may not have found the house's location, but he had clues to go off of.

It bothered him, truly bothered him, that he couldn't trace where he saw the house. He was starting to believe his brain dreamt it all up after all.

However, that still didn't explain the laundromat. That hurt to even think about, literally. He didn't want to, anyways. He was ready to just accept that it happened and not question it. At least for as long as he could before the mystery dangling right in front of him bothered him too much to not think about it.

He chose to save the clue about the orange grove for later. Now, they were arriving at the scene on the empty, lonely hilltop street lined with grass on both sides. The isolated road was clearly a good spot for a murder in the day, let alone night.

Already, it was far different from the mess it was last night. It was still a mess, of course. But today, a lane was blocked for the urgent repair of the power pole.

The three stopped just behind the cones blocking the way and Juliet headed over to talk to a few workers. Shawn signaled Gus to stay by the car.

"I need you to work things out with me," Shawn said.

"You came here without a plan, didn't you?" Gus said with a tiny touch of disdain.

"It's not about this, it's about the house and the laundromat."

Gus could see the sincerity in Shawn's face. "Okay, tell me what you've got."

"It's not about what I've got, it's what I don't. I'm starting to be convinced the house was just a dream after all. The closest hint I got was a family picture with an orange grove as the background. But I can't track down anything about the laundromat. I can't remember even one clue."

"Maybe it just got shocked out of your memory."

Shawn closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples in his thinking pose. "Impossible. My memory is crystal clear. I can picture everything, every detail. Nothing out of the ordinary. It's perfectly clear up until the pole fell. But if I try to work it out starting at the information itself, instead of looking for signs of it in what I remember, all I get is a five-second-long migraine."

"You've had to have seen it somewhere. There's no way it came out of thin air."

There was a pause as Shawn ran through his memory all over again. "We haven't been on this case long enough to see anything. All we've been to was the Leo's house and the station. There were no mentions of any laundromat, not even a receipt or business card. Not in the house, not in the case files." He opened his eyes and crossed his arms. "I don't like this. Something's wrong. I recounted every step."

It was a well known fact between the two of them that Shawn's memory was important to him. Sure, he'd misplace the remote, and sometimes he filtered out what he considered unimportant, especially about his high school years. But this, this was important, and he couldn't remember where he found it. Gus couldn't truly understand how it felt, but he knew that Shawn was having an understandably tough time with it. He rested his hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

The gesture was appreciated, but was more than just reassurance. Shawn could feel his friend's worry, feel his emotions as if they were his own. All of his own worry, for just those couple seconds, melted away into a more third-person worry over himself. This was far beyond regular empathy. And as the hand left his shoulder, it all faded away.

That was weird. He knew he was perceptive but this was on another level. He had no time to think about it cause Juliet called them over. He took a breath and bottled up all that worry, donning the mask of Psychic Detective once again.

"Guys, what are you waiting for?" She shouted over from the work zone.

The two headed into the blocked area and Shawn forced himself to focus and read the scene. Ignore everything else, think about the next "vision" and solve this case. He started off with the new pole. It was an emergency repair, so the workers were quick with getting the new pole in and were starting to attach the lines. Even though the workers had dug out much of the grass and dirt around the pole, some scars in the dirt showed the path of the car as it tumbled. Faint scratches on the edge of the sidewalk showed the exact point the roll began. Tiny bits of glass and plastic debris was scattered all over along the path.

The asphalt was stained with a faint yellow tint from the chemical, which was a bit surprising as it was almost invisible on last night's clothes. As he followed the skid marks of the tires, one more noticeable stain was in the other lane. He ran over, and it was unmistakable. It stood just in the radius of the chemical stain, and followed what he remembered of the scene last night.

When the man who was killed was hit, he was thrown forward, but the car went too fast and ran over him while he was down. The stain was blood, right where the tread marks began. That was where he was run over. Shawn was looking away for that part, as he recovered from his tumble. He looked away for just one second, but it wasn't hard to put two and two together when he looked back right as the car lost control. With the added context clue of the bloodstain now visible in broad daylight, there was no questioning the events.

"Jules, over here," he called out.

Juliet went right over. "What is it? What do you have?"

"I have our evidence." He pointed to the faint, faded brown bloodstain just barely visible through the chemical staining.

It was at that point Lassiter pulled in. He grumbled at the scene in front of him, everyone looking at one spot in the ground. "What are you doing?"

Shawn looked up first. "Hey, Lassie! You're just in time to see me being right!" He pointed again at the bloodstain.

Lassiter took a closer look. He had nothing to say about that little jab towards his ego, it was very obviously a bloodstain. "I'll see if I can get a sample for DNA testing. We'd be lucky to get anything from it though, it's probably too contaminated."

The bloodstain seemed to have it's own charge to it. Shawn felt his hand want to move towards it, nerves feeling like TV static the closer he got. He crouched down and just barely touched the edge of the dried puddle, and his world flashed to darkness.

"Now tell me, is there any last message I should send to those Reaper scum?"

"Move out of the way!"

"What?"

"MOVE!"

*CRASH!*

Painpainpainpainpain...

He stumbled back as his vision restored, grasping at his chest and panting heavily. The jolt of pain lasted only a second, but it felt it as if he was hit by the car himself.

"Shawn!" Gus jumped in to steady him.

After recovering and seeing he was being way too obvious, he tried to play it off as a standard fake vision, hoping Gus would be fooled. "He was hit, dragged. He didn't listen. The car was coming and he didn't listen." 

"Didn't listen? What do you mean?" Juliet asked.

Shawn walked over to the exact spot he got shocked in. "Over here, he was pointing the gun towards this spot!"

When his right foot stepped on the spot, the sky went dark. When his left foot stepped there, the rest of last night's scenery replaced today's. Shawn could recreate memories in his mind just as vividly, but that didn't mean he was actively seeing it through his eyes like he was this time.

The car came rushing back towards him and the imaginary guy standing in the road. "Move out of the way!" he shouted impulsively.

"What?" The memory continued.

Against his will once again, he yelled, "MOVE!"

The memory man looked back at the headlights a split second before he met his unfortunate end. Shawn, at the same time, jumped away. Just as he did last night. But this time, as his feet left the ground, the world flashed back again. In the haze of consciousness, he landed even worse than last time, scratching up his elbow and practically knocking the breath out of him.

By the time he sat up and blinked away the last specks of the hallucination, he had a concerned audience around him.

Gus shook his shoulder, saying something his ringing ears blocked out.

"I saw it," Shawn said. "I saw the night all over again." His hearing came back a little, but it was still a bit muffled.

"What did you see?" Juliet asked.

Shawn looked at Gus. An invisible question was showing on his face. Are you gonna tell them? Shawn could hear his friend's voice say it. He nodded the slightest nod and gathered his exquisite excuse-making skills in a split second. "It was me. The shock must have messed with me, and possibly my power too. I was the one he was pointing the gun at."

Lassiter's face turned to a scathing scowl. "You were the one single witness we had this entire time and didn't say one word?"

"I didn't know!" Shawn lied. "The vibes were out of sync, I couldn't tell the memory from a regular vision! Standing in that spot sort of aligned the vibrations, made it clear."

"I swear, Spencer, if the murderer gets away because of this so-called mis-aligned vibration, it's on your head."

Juliet gave her partner a stern look. "Besides that," she said, turning to Shawn, "now we have you as a witness. That's far better than circumstantial evidence. This has better be real memory loss, because if you were hiding this, it really would be on your head."

Shawn stood up. "In my defense... well, I can't defend psychic memory misalignment in a way that makes sense. But I can help track down the car and identify the poor hitman that met his unfortunate end under the wheels of a car wimpier than the Blueberry."

"Are you sure you're okay? That vision looked a bit worse than usual."

"Jules, don't let the fourth dimension scare you. Let's track down that car. I'm sensing oranges, the car went to somewhere oranges grow."

"Is the house you mentioned earlier on a citrus grove?"

"Good thinking! See, we're back on track."

"There's one issue," Lassiter said. "This is Southern California. There are countless citrus groves in the area, you can't narrow it down at all."

Shawn mockingly put his hand to his head in his signature psychic pose. "What if I tell you that the house on the citrus grove is owned by our friend Six's family member? We find out if any of his family has a citrus grove, we find the house."

"We find the house, we catch our guys," Gus added for emphasis.

Lassiter glanced between the two. "I'll have someone back at the station look it up, but my priority is tracking down the car. Don't think you're out of the water for this little forgetfulness act, I don't have time to deal with it. We have to track that car down before they can scrap it completely. Which way did it drive off?"

"That way," Shawn said, pointing down the road. "It kept going. I sense there's a convenient store, maybe a gas station, that could have cameras that picked it up." The car wouldn't be hard to track down, limping along the way it did.

"Let's go, we have a trail to follow." Lassiter pulled out his keys, and the detectives walked to their car.

Gus pulled out his own keys. "We're having a talk. I've been way too lenient about this."

"I'm fine, okay? You don't have to worry about me," Shawn said.

"No, you're not," Gus stated firmly. "You've been acting weird all day. That was no vision-act. Let's go, we'll talk in the car."

Chapter Text

The drive was five minutes, but it felt more like five hours. Shawn was being questioned the moment the car door shut.

"Give me one good reason not to drive to your dad's house and have him keep you locked in your old room until you're better," Gus said sternly.

Wishing he could just jump out of the car right now, Shawn had no choice but to answer. "Dude, I don't know what's going on. All I know is that my skills are way better than before."

"You totally freaked out back there. What is really going on?"

"I told you, I don't know! I just totally flashed back to that night, it was if I was there again," Shawn said reluctantly, rubbing his now-bandaged elbow. "It's just kind of weird that the first time it was from the dead guy's perspective."

Gus quickly glanced over in concern. "What do you mean, the dead guy's perspective?"

"It wasn't that clear. My vision totally blacked out, but I did hear it. I know it was his perspective though. I felt his arrogance and I felt how the car hit him, just for a second. Not only that, but the second time, it was like I was back. I could see it. Not picture it, but properly see it."

"It's gotta be a trauma response or something. Like some sort of PTSD flashback."

"I would never let that happen to me, Gus. It's gotta be just some weird concussion thing. I've still got a tiny headache."

"Yeah, but you said the doctor told you the concussion was minor. Either you're lying to me about how bad it was, or the doctor missed something, because minor concussions won't cause whatever that was." Maybe, it's something else.

Shawn had no explanation, nor any excuse. At least, nothing reasonable. He just wanted to ignore the unreasonable. "No, it's definitely just a concussion. They say the shock must've made me jerk around like I was a movie character getting tasered, and I ended up bumping my head on the ground. Nobody saw it to see how hard I hit." They came up to a stoplight, almost at their destination. "Here's the spot," he said, turning the back of his head to Gus and parting his hair.

Gus examined the wound gently, wincing at the sight of the ugly scab hidden behind a messy patch of his friend's hair. "It isn't pretty, but it looks right for hitting asphalt." He put his hands back on the steering wheel and waited for the light. "But what do you expect me to think? Selling pharmaceuticals doesn't make me a doctor. I can't judge the severity."

"I don't know. Weird things have been happening all day." The light turned green, and they drove into the 7-Eleven just on the other side of the intersection. Shawn straightened up in the seat and took a second to don his psychic-ruse mask once again. The duo hopped out of the car, and Juliet and Lassiter waited at the door.

Immediately, Shawn took in the surroundings. One camera at the door, the angle wouldn't catch the street. Two cameras on the canopy above the gas pumps, if they were wide enough angle there was a chance they would catch something. The station was otherwise empty of people and devoid of any other cameras that he could see.

In his mind, Shawn saw grainy black-and-white images. A car turning a corner. An incredibly damaged car. "I am getting strong vibrations from this place," he said when he reached the detectives.

"Do you have a strong videotape?" Lassiter said grumpily.

"Where do you think the vibrations come from?"

The group went inside and asked the clerk at the counter to look at the tapes. He showed them to the back room and they started viewing the tapes. Shawn immediately knew the one tape they needed to look at, and immediately played it. After a few minutes, the dark, grainy black-and-white video from the one camera pointed towards the gas station exit showed exactly what they needed. The intersection was on the corner of the screen, but the car, just as Shawn imagined, drove by and turned the corner. There was no mistaking it. Even though the footage was grainy and poor, they could all see the horrific damage.

It was crushed from all visible sides. The top was completely crumpled. All the glass was shattered or missing completely. The front passenger door was crushed in from hitting the pole. The hatch of the hatchback trunk somehow managed to stay latched, but only barely. The hood was dented up, and the front bumper bounced around as if it would fall off at the slightest jolt. That was all the detail visible, the tape was too fuzzy. But the path could be traced. The car turned, jerking and swaying from the horrendously misaligned right front wheel, going down the exact street needed to get to the freeway.

"I think it's about time I say I told you so," Shawn gloated.

"Well, there's no time to waste. Let's go find more cameras," Juliet said.

"I have a feeling we should save some time and get straight to one of the gas stations by the freeway entrance. All we need to know is which way he went."

"Once we know that, we can try to get traffic camera footage to narrow down which exit he took."

Lassiter shut off the replaying tape. "Let's get over there," he said.

The four left in their two cars going straight down the road directly to the freeway. Clouds were rolling in and the sun was starting to set. They checked more cameras at another two gas stations right by the freeway, pointing them towards the 101 South. After Gus took the opportunity to fuel up his car ("It's a bad idea to get on the freeway with under a half tank of gas, Shawn!" he proclaimed,) they headed on their way.

They drove aimlessly down the freeway waiting for updates on the traffic cameras. Gus noticed that Shawn was unusually silent, looking out the window with laser focus at the sides of the road. "What are you looking for?" Gus asked.

"Something I can track," Shawn responded.

"We already know the car is going this way. What could you possibly track?"

"I don't know. But there's something out there, I can feel it."

"I'm not going to argue with you this time, just stop making me worry."

The feeling slowly faded away as they zoomed down the highway, and Shawn broke his gaze. "Gus, don't be a My Little Pony Pez dispenser. We've almost got this solved! Even with me being at the top of my game so strongly I can't even keep track of it."

Traffic wasn't too bad once they got outside of the city, and they weren't stopping in hopes that when their camera update does come in, they were closer to the right exit than they would be staying in town. Gus didn't like this very rare side of Shawn. It rarely ever came out, especially not recently. It was different from plotting Shawn, or thinking Shawn, or grumpy Shawn. Gus couldn't help being concerned. "I know you haven't been telling me everything you've been dealing with. And I know it's weighing on you."

Shawn couldn't hide from his best friend. Knowing each other like they do, they know each other's tells. And he just had to pretend it wasn't weighing on him, because he had work to do, and he couldn't focus when things got too serious. "Gus, you're throwing off my groove!" he said in his most dramatic Kuzko impression.

Gus just shook his head and continued down the road. It became silent again, this time as a stalemate. Shawn wouldn't dare speak, lest he summon the wrath of the increasingly concerned Gus. But Gus couldn't exactly say anything either, since he wouldn't get any word in.

A few more minutes passed. Shawn began to fiddle with the radio stations. He couldn't find a song he liked, so he flicked through them again until he found something to settle with. Continuing to be bored, he sat there and looked out the window once again, this time with the attention of playing his deduction game with cars. It was usually a tough task, as not only is it hard to see the people in the cars at various differing speeds, but there are hardly any tells that are visible on the person at all.

As he played his game, only watching the cars in the right lane as it was his best viewpoint, he once again found a certain unusual certainty in his deductions. The red SUV Gus was paced with was a family from some smaller coastal town a while north taking a trip to Disneyland. He tried thinking of other options but his brain wouldn't comply; they were going to Disneyland and there was no doubt about it. That took a few seconds and wasn't as instant of a result as the people on the street he tried the game with earlier today. But the deduction still came.

They were a little slower than the Blueberry in the middle lane, so it wasn't long before Shawn could see the next car ahead, a sleek, brand new silver Mercedes. He was a real estate agent looking to set up an office in San Luis Obispo, and was just heading back to LA enjoying the drive along the coast. Shawn could at least explain away some part of that deduction as a guess from the briefcase and a binder sitting in the passenger seat. There weren't any cars ahead. The drive continued, and his head buzzed a bit for a minute.

Suddenly, Shawn heard something, and started looking around the car. "Do you hear that?"

Gus turned the air fan down and listened for a second. "Nope, nothing. What is it?"

"A sort of ringing noise," Shawn said. It was as if his ears were intermittently ringing, but coming from somewhere in the car. He did his best to ignore his friend's concerned vibes hanging in the air. But as he called them vibes in his thought process, he stopped to wonder, did I just use vibes unironically? Wow.

"There's no noise. Didn't I just say to stop making me worry?" Gus said. A second later, Shawn's cell phone rang. They couldn't share their confused gazes, as Gus still had to look at the road. They still shared the same face of surprise, which they could both tell as Gus took a quick glance to the right.

Shawn let the phone ring a few seconds longer before answering, both because he was frozen in shock and had to let a wave of pain, though not as bad as before, rush through his skull once more. "Jules! Any updates?" Gus waited patiently as the call went on. Shawn nodded in thought as he listened to the plan. "Got it, I'll pass it along."

He hung up. "The cameras caught the car! The good news, we're close to catching the car. The bad news, it went on the Highway 150 exit and we'll have no more cameras to check between there and Ojai. We'll need to bring out our good old fashioned detective work! Jules wants to stop and make a plan once we get to the exit."

"Damn, that's fifteen minutes behind us! What a waste of gas," Gus said. "But let me ask you this; did you just predict my phone ringing?"

Deflecting, Shawn ignored the question. "This is an economy car, Gus, I don't think you need to worry about fifteen minutes of freeway miles."

"It's fifteen minutes one way, Shawn! The mileage matters at that point! Not to mention the wear and tear on this car which isn't even mine!"

"You are driving a Toyota Echo, efficiency and reliability are the two things on this car you don't need to worry about."

"I do when we already passed the last exit until we get to Ventura," Gus complained. He managed to get back on topic. "Now tell me, did you predict that phone call?"

Unable to deflect any more, Shawn caved in. "I think..." he trailed off. He looked downwards as he zoned out in thought. There was a pattern. Definitely a pattern. And a guess at a phone call definitely happened before. He heard that ringing in his ears before, not just straight ringing but ringing in his ears. He predicted the call at the station. Let alone the other weird things that were happening to him, all paired up with a stinging headache every time. "I think I did. And maybe I predicted more."

Traffic picked up as they got closer to the exit, slowing them down with one mile to go. "You have been saying you don't remember where you've been getting your info."

"I don't think it's possible. It can't be. There's no way. There's gotta be some more realistic explanation."

"We can test it right here and now."

Shawn scoffed at that. "No way. It has to be something else. I've always been good at predicting things, the concussion is just messing with me."

It went unsaid, but they both had the same suspicions. Gus put it together because Shawn didn't want to. We both know that's not the full story.

"Okay, fine, you win, lets say it is real," Shawn said, once again hearing Gus' words not actually spoken and considering the reason why. "Psychics were never real before. And I never was one before. I don't want to believe it, cause it just feels like I lost my memory when I can't pick out where the info comes from."

Ahead of them, Lassiter's car took the exit and Gus didn't respond until he took it too. "Wouldn't you rather know it's magically appearing in your mind?" The road led him on a curve through the underpass, and a turn at the stop sign started the trip back to the Highway 150 exit. "It's got to be better than thinking you're forgetting things you usually never forget."

"That doesn't make it any less unsettling," Shawn said. "I just need to not think about it too much and it won't bother me."

That's all it boiled down to, and Gus pushed him to admit it. Even though he was the only one Shawn would admit it to, he still felt a bit guilty pushing him to do it. "You know I've got you," he said, holding his hand out for a fist bump.

Shawn did the fist bump, but said no words. He took a few minutes to shut out his concern. As the day went on, he felt he was getting back in the normal flow of things. But as his post-concussion brain fog faded away, he couldn't laugh away the situation as easily when it started to really weigh on him. But he still tried anyways; he had to, or else he'd never solve this case. Becoming a real psychic could be cool. Lots of prank potential there. Yeah, I just gotta think of the fun it could be!

Clearing his mind as best he can and focusing on the case, he got back into his case-solving mindset. "Okay. We have a citrus grove. That's a real memory. The house could be real, we'll find out. I still don't know where it actually is. I have a feeling it won't be further than Ojai."

"I hope not. Mountain roads are way worse for mileage," Gus said.

"Dude, you're driving an Echo."

"Yeah, but it's not a Prius! My car still runs fully on gas, and the mileage matters."

"What's up with you and gas mileage today?"

"You may not care with your motorcycle, but my car has a full sized tank. Gas prices are through the roof!" Gus said, continuing to indulge in Shawn's argument knowing he needed a distraction.

"The road goes through a pass, I think you're just exaggerating. Anyways, the point is, Ojai is the furthest the house could be," Shawn said. "You know what houses in the middle of nowhere have?"

Gus shrugged. "Lots of land?"

A tiny smirk tugged at Shawn's cheeks. "Unpaved driveways. Dirt and gravel and bumps. And you know what dirt and gravel and bumps do?"

Gus returned the smirk. "It damages cars."

"Look at that, your car paranoia finally pays off!" Shawn joked. "Its rough enough on good cars. For a car as hurt as it is, I can spot something useful that gets shaken off of it. Shattered glass. Broken plastic. I have a vision, I magically lead us to the house, and then we come out victorious!"

"I won't be able to slow down for you, so pay attention and don't miss anything."

"Gus, I don't miss details!" Shawn said it as if his worries didn't exist at all, and completely ignoring the growing feeling of all of his instincts once again telling him there's something to find out here.

The conversation stopped as Shawn just couldn't help to stare out the windows again. They soon got to their exit, and parked on the side of the empty road to regroup. Out came the detectives, Lassiter holding a big spiral-bound book. It wasn't just any book; it was a map book.

That map book was the first thing Shawn saw. "Did GPS hurt you?"

"This book has more details than GPS could ever have," Lassiter said, putting the book on the trunk.

"Plus, I thought you might be able to divine some directions," Juliet said. "You've done some incredible things today, I hope you can keep that up."

Shawn went over and grabbed the book. "I don't think the spirits can find a single street out of the entire Thomas Guide." He flipped through the pages and suddenly stopped on one specific page. "Or maybe they can."

Juliet looked to the page. "That's a huge section west of the lake. Are you getting anything specific?"

"No. But there is good news. We at least know it's somewhere in this section west of the lake!" Shawn didn't even catch that he made that guess from nothing at first. Already it was becoming a reflex. He shoved the book away and stepped back.

"There are miles of mountain roads here. It'll take too long to check them out."

"Not necessarily." Shawn reluctantly gave into his instincts and jogged down the road. He didn't have to go far. The snow in his vision returned, dancing in his eyes like static, getting stronger and more visible around one spot on the side of the road. He raced over and found a tire tread. Everyone else weren't far behind.

"Is that from the car?" Gus asked.

Kneeling down, Shawn touched it. A loud pop in his ears made him jump. It's from the car. He closed his eyes in preparation for the wave of pain; it was more of a dull ache now.

"I'll take that as a yes," Gus said.

Shawn hopped back up and put a hand to his head in his most dramatic of psychic poses. "The tire couldn't handle freeway speeds for long, and the turn to take this road was the killing blow. It's our lucky day. The spirits are guiding me and this tread is their anchor!"

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "You better not carry that around with you. We don't have any way of confirming it's even from the car. Do you know where we're going or not?"

The tire tread sat there. "It did come from the car, it can tell you itself!" Shawn grabbed the tread, no longer acting as anything but a prop now, and held it up to his ear. "Mhmm. Yep. Got it. Lassie, It wants you to know you hurt it's feelings by doubting it's identity. Oh, and it doesn't know the final destination by heart but it will tell us which road to turn on when it sees it."

"It's a torn up piece of rubber!"

"Yeah, and what did this torn up piece of rubber ever do to you?" Shawn stroked the tread as if comforting it. "You can make it up to it by following us to the right road! Come on, Gus. I know you would support tire tread rights." He walked back to the car. Gus followed.

Juliet shook her head. "Well, he was accurate about everything else. If it takes a tire tread to solve this case, so be it."

"Something's up with him," Lassiter said. The two walked back to their own car.

"He's solving the case, that's the most important thing."

"That doesn't make it any less weird." He started the car and this time followed the Echo. They had a case to solve.

Chapter Text

"You know, it's kind of ironic that the fake psychic turns into a real psychic," Gus said.

"I think I might be able to get behind the idea," Shawn said, looking to Gus. "But trust me, it's not as fun as you think."

"That's just you, with your spooky levels of perception. I would think you'd like it!"

Shawn glared out the window. "I think that earns me bonus points on the irony scale. I just have this flow, this groove, and this just screws it up. I can't even explain how weird it feels to get memories I've never had."

Misty rain started speckling the windshield as the clouds kept rolling in. "That's not good," Gus said.

"And another point for irony, rain coming to wash away evidence right as we're about to find it," Shawn complained.

Gus couldn't resist. "That's not irony, that's just bad luck. It's a very commonly misused word."

"Okay, Alanis Morissette, what do you call it?"

"First off, Ironic is a song that doesn't use any real ironic situations. It's all coincidences and bad luck. Just like what the rain is now."

"There's some irony about rain and some line in the song, but..." Shawn paused as a chill ran down his spine. Almost there, almost there, almost there repeated in his head. "I can't even think right now."

Gus glanced over. "What is it?"

Shawn shook his head as if shaking the thoughts out of his mind. "Nothing we need to worry about for six minutes and fifteen seconds. Man, this is getting annoying."

"I still think you should figure this out and use the power to your advantage," Gus said.

Goosebumps covered Shawn's arms as the car got ever closer to their destination. Worry started creeping into his thoughts. "I don't know how I could. Yeah, I have powers now, but they're barely any better than my regular skills. It's not fun when the answers are just handed to me."

It was an unspoken fact that Shawn stuck with this because it was the first job in his life that he truly enjoyed. It still shocked Gus to hear it almost said out loud. "There still has to be fun in it, I know you can find some."

Shawn tapped his fingers on the center console. "I don't think there's anything better than what I already had. Solving cases normally is fun because I have to find the clues. It's different every time. And it's hilarious when Lassie has to play along with my game. When it stops becoming a game, it becomes work. And you know how I feel about work."

"What about your over-dramatic shows of revealing clues? The big reveals at the end? I'm sure you can still do that. Or what about the detectives, and all of our other friends at the station? You can't say you don't like working with them."

"It's the art of comedy, Gus. This power has already thrown me off, and I don't need to be psychic to know that they know I'm off my game. If I can't control this power, and I never get back into the groove of things, everyone will notice. Most people aren't very observant, but they do know when something is wrong. They probably don't know what exactly is wrong, but they can sense that something." Shawn's thoughts were starting to fog up again, as they kept getting closer. Anxiety started poking at his brain, and his right shoulder started to ache again. Wait, I landed on my left shoulder. "If everyone notices, I might get found out. That would make a mess. And then things won't be the same. I don't want that," he said. I don't want to lose them.

Gus' concern was ever-growing. Shawn was not himself right now. "We'll get through this. You know I've got you." He held out his fist.

Shawn completed the fist bump. But his mind continued to cloud. Almost there, almost there, almost there. I can't get caught. They can't find us. They have no way. Or do they? God, my shoulder hurts. I hope they give up soon so I can go to the hospital. I think it's fractured. But what if they know what happened? What if the guy we left survived? What if the cops' psychic is real and tracks us down?

No, no, I'm the psychic. I didn't dislocate my right shoulder. I am not afraid of getting caught. Shawn's heart raced with fear, fear that he knew wasn't his, fear he couldn't control. That other voice in his head wasn't his own.

I can't get caught.

That one stuck like a harpoon. That ate at his consciousness in two voices. The reminder of the hole he dug himself into the very first time he stepped foot into the police station. The circumstances between him and that gangster were entirely different. But even though Shawn tried to bury that fear, the universe used it against him anyways.

"Shawn, what's wrong?" Gus asked worriedly.

The pain started in the back of his head and crawled forward. As if the universe was warning him, he found he knew what was about to happen. "Don't freak out. I'm having a vision."

"Like, an actual real vision?"

A standard room. A bedroom from the looks of it. Shawn couldn't move, the vision moved around him. It was as if he was in a dream, his body ethereal and moving unconsciously. His right shoulder in severe pain, he struggled to lift up a large rifle out of it's case and onto the bed. But it wasn't his shoulder. It wasn't his hands. From the light peeking through the mostly shut blinds, it was sunrise. This was a vision from the past. That other voice in his mind, I don't want to do this, I never wanted to do this, but I don't want to die, why is this happening was louder than ever, consuming his own thoughts.

I can't get caught. I can't get caught. I can't get caught. Two voices.

The vision faded away, and so did the pain and fear and second voice. I can't get caught.

He blinked the rest of the darkness out of the corner of his eyes, and his worry over his secret suddenly stopped being any unusual level of concern.

When he looked over, he saw Gus naturally trying not to freak out. "Are you back?!"

"Please tell me I didn't become a discount That's So Raven parody there," Shawn said.

Thank God, that was terrifying, Gus thought. He didn't notice the face Shawn made at that thought. "Parody? Dude, you'd be a top-rated sequel."

With his brain no longer hijacked, Shawn's non-consensual anxiety was replaced with all-natural embarrassment. "Well, I'd certainly fit into the Disney Channel at this rate," he muttered. "That's So Shawn, premiering this Saturday after Phineas and Ferb." 

"I hope that's a working title."

"Like you'd have anything better. That fence up there is where the driveway is."

Gus almost missed it, since Shawn pointed it out so nonchalantly. He clicked his blinker and pulled over right before the edge of the dirt driveway. The detectives stopped right behind them. The rain remained a light mist, so they had no issue stepping out on the side of the road.

When Shawn looked up the driveway, peeking through the trees to just barely see the house in the distance, his mind went on red alert. If danger was an emotion, that would be the feeling this house was giving off. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds just to try getting rid of that feeling. It helped, but another headache started to replace it.

"Shawn? Are you alright?" Juliet said. The words didnt compute until she shook his shoulder.

Shawn quickly turned around to face her. "Oh, just the spirits sending some messages. Or maybe..." he had a sudden thought. The tire tread! He ran to the dirt road and looked carefully. There they were: tire tracks. One track being half-flattened... as if there was one wheel driving on the rim.

He went back to the car and pulled out the portion of tire from the last time they stopped. He brought it to the dirt road and placed them side by side. An image came up in the back of his mind, an image of that decimated hatchback hobbling its way up this road. He tried not to let the flash spoil his flow, since he really just wanted to pretend he saw it. But he realized he acted too fast; the chance to do that went out the window the moment he took the tire tread back out.

Not all was lost, though! Shawn had one more trick up his sleeve: the power to hide his slip-ups. "Boom! Matching tracks! The tread just wanted to be home with the other tires!"

Lassiter looked on in awe. "I can't believe it. This was a dead end trail."

"It was never dead end. Unless there's someone dead at the end. We're not at the end yet. But I didn't see any dead bodies in my vision. So it's still not a dead end." Shawn's psychically-received fear still hadn't waned. "Oh, yeah, they've got rifles, so we have to be careful or else it will become a dead end," he added, a perfect way to avoid having to go near the house.

"So we're expecting a fight. O'Hara, call the chief. We're going to need some backup."

Juliet pulled out her phone, but didn't dial yet. "Shawn, what kind of fight are we expecting?"

That was an easy question. It was time to make a show.

Shawn put the tips of his fingers on his temples for full dramatic effect. Then, he stopped ignoring the fear. "I can't get caught," he said, with a cadence not his own. "They can't catch me. I have to fight. I have to!" His uninjured shoulder started to hurt again. For just a second, he saw through the eyes of the young gangster. He shut his eyes tight to stop that from turning to a full vision again.

"He's the one I see the strongest," Shawn said, now out of the trance. "He's afraid. He's going to do anything to get out of jail. The others in the house will probably fight just as hard."

"You're sure about this?" Juliet asked. "It would look very bad if I call in a SWAT team and there ends up being nothing in the house."

"I've never been more sure of anything in my whole life, Jules! The vibrations have never been stronger! I bet you my entire DVD collection that the standoff will be at least two hours." He said that before even thinking. That knowledge popped into his head out of nowhere. Two hours and thirty-two minutes exactly.

"Well, that sounds sure enough for me. I'll make the call." Juliet stepped away as she started dialing.

Lassiter waited until she was fully distracted to speak to Shawn and Gus alone. "What are you two playing at here?"

Gus held up his hands. "Don't ask me anything, I'm not the psychic." Sorry Shawn, I'm not up for this.

Shawn put his hand on his friend's shoulder and gave him a glance. C'mon, son! We're a team! The wide-eyed stare Shawn got in return was odd considering he only said the thought in his mind. He was caught so off guard he forgot what he was going to say with his mouth.

"Spencer! Guster! Enough with the googly eyes!"

"Right, right, interrogation," Shawn said. "Listen, Lassatron, that crash earlier totally heightened my powers to the max. And I'm talking up to 11. Maybe even a 12."

"Cut the crap, we both know the psychic act is an act no matter how much you deny it." The detective had waves of suspicion flowing off of him. "The only way you could've brought us here was if you're an accomplice. You've found out way more than you should've."

This time, Shawn was not unphased. His continuing link to the man in the house triggered his can't get caught thoughts all over again. Something in his face must have given it away because Lassiter's suspicion started to turn into ego. But before either of them could say a word, Shawn quickly decided to see how far his mindreading could go and put his hand on the detective's head.

"Spencer," Lassiter said without moving away.

"Get your hand off my head."

"Get your hand off my he..."

Shawn said it sooner.

"Nice trick, weirdo," Carlton said, trying to hide how creeped out he felt.

The psychic picked up all his emotions. "Don't worry, Lassie, I don't like this either."

"Shawn, what are you doing?" Gus asked.

"Shh. Let me focus." Shawn continued to scout the emotions, not sure exactly what he was doing.

There it was. A premonition. The loud crack of a rifle made Shawn leap back; he only heard the sound mentally, but it still took him by surprise.

Meanwhile, Juliet finished her call and walked back over to the rest of the group. "So, we're getting a SWAT team," she told them. "But Shawn, the chief wanted me to tell you that if this is a bust, we'll arrest you for obstruction."

With a weak smirk, Shawn said, "I know you believe me, Jules."

"I don't," Lassiter grumbled.

A rumbling grew in Shawn's skull, his sixth sense warning him that the premonition was about to stop being a premonition. "Are you ready to?"

Without waiting for a response, he yanked the detective to the side by his sleeve a moment before a bullet whizzed by. A loud bang echoed through the hills, just like the premonition. If he didn't act, the bullet would've struck Carlton straight in the back. He was standing right in the spot where the house was visible through the trees. That meant that was the one spot someone in the house could see someone standing in the driveway.

"Jesus, that was close! Everyone, get down!" Lassiter's instinctual shout wasn't needed; everyone already ran to hide behind the nearest vehicle.

Gus was rightfully freaked out. His fear radiated off of him in a very distracting way. The dectectives were far better at shoving it down. Shawn could sense it all. With no way of blocking all that emotion out, his headache roared up into a migrane and he could hardly think. His face curled into a grimace he could not hide.

Juliet was, of course, the first to notice. "Shawn, are you okay? Are you hit?"

Focus, ignore it, get back to normal. "I'm fine," Shawn uttered through clenched teeth. "Nothing's wrong." However, he didn't consider that Gus, huddled right up against him, could tell it was a lie.

"It's his concussion," Gus said to Juliet. "His powers are too much for it."

"We have to get him out of here," Juliet replied.

Fighting the pain, Shawn stood up and ran to the ditch on the left of the dirt driveway. He grabbed a stick. What he did next needed no psychic knowledge.

The treeline hid the house from view, and hid them from the house. The cars were behind it, hidden from view. The Blueberry's front bumper was at the very edge. The driveway flared outwards at it's connection to the road, and narrowed at the true entrance between fenceposts a couple yards from the roadway. The treeline broke for that opening, and stayed broken on the whole dirt road all the way to the house. The house was a bit to the side of the driveway, with the driveway not perpindicular to the road. That cut down the possible viewline to a small gap between branches.

Shawn only saw it for a short moment. But that moment was all he needed. Despite the psychic headache, he was able to bring up that memory of the spot the house was visible from. He used raw skill to calculate the safe zone by counting trees, remembering where they were standing, and taking into account the bullet mark in the ground. There was a diagonal line of danger. He drew a physical line in the wet dirt with the stick just behind that imaginary line.

He ran back behind the car. "That's the dead end line," he said. The moment he kneeled back down, another wave of pain flowed through his brain.

Lassiter cautiously peered over the hood of the car to see it. "Danger zone. Got it. You two need to get out of here. This is too big for you to deal with."

"You need me. I can predict what's going to happen."

"You're in no shape to predict anything. Go back to the station before you start getting in our way."

Gus looked to his partner. "Listen to him this time. Just this once, Shawn. I don't want to get sniped. I don't want you to get sniped either." And your new powers are unpredictable, who knows if they'll save you. I can't be on a team without you. He directed that thought to him intentionally, hoping it would be picked up.

Thankfully, it was picked up. But Shawn didn't say anything yet.

"You know we appreciate the help," Juliet interjected, "but this time is different. You can't run in and save the day this time. We'll be fine, I promise."

This was an issue. Shawn had been playing things too risky all day. He really did want to leave this time, the radiating emotions were hurting him. But he never just left the situation. Not without a really good excuse. But now, he was given an out, and he couldn't just take the out because he also never just took the out before either. But due to this damn psychic concussion migrane he couldn't think of any good excuse. It didn't stop him from half-assing it though.

"Hold on, I'm getting something," he said in classic fashion. "You're catching the attention of the spirits."

Lassiter rolled his eyes, but Juliet was interested. "What are they saying?"

"They're... they're agreeing with you. They want me to go back to town. But they're calling for another reason..." He paused for dramatic effect. "I can't hear it. It's too faint. I think it's something about fish. Or a dish. Perhaps a wish. Something ish. Gus, we have to go, the spirits need us!"

Gus seemed relieved. "Good, lets get out of the firing line." He and Shawn quickly hopped into the Blueberry.

Lassiter went into his own car. "Take a tight U-turn, I'll give you cover," he shouted out the window. Juliet backed further into the safe zone to give them some room, taking her phone back out of her pocket to call the station back to give them an update on the situation.

Shawn was the coach of this. "That means turn the steering wheel all the way, buddy! As far as it goes. The longer you take to turn, the bigger chance a bullet damages this car. And we're part of this car now."

That was not a thought Gus wanted, but definitely needed. He started the car and began the turn. Lassiter pulled forward and slightly into the driveway, crossing the danger line. Almost immediately, a rifle shot rang past the cruiser, just barely missing the windshield. That was all Gus needed to finish the turn. Another shot rang out, a total miss as Lassiter reversed his car, perfectly timed to spook Gus into flooring it out of there.

Shawn could sense they were misses, that the detectives were safe. He could also sense Gus's panic, which was not fun.

"Dude, we're safe, you can chill. You're making my headache worse."

"Oh, like I can magically turn off a natural human reaction to getting shot at!" Gus replied.

"Well, I can't magically turn off your aura!" Shawn snapped.

A brief silence came over the Blueberry, minus the sound of the radio on low and the quickly strengthening raindrops. Shawn hadn't snapped at Gus like that in years. They both knew he was at his limit.

"Sorry man," Shawn said after recovering from another wave of pain. "My head is all jumbled like a smoothie and it hurts like the matching brainfreeze."

"Maybe it's not permanent," Gus suggested. "It could be the concussion. You really shouldn't be doing anything strenuous, all this might be making things worse."

"It sure isn't making it better."

"Listen, our part of the case is over now. We'll go back to the station and check in with Chief Vick, then we can chill out and watch some movies."

The rain picked up, and the sky started to darken. "Yeah, I like the sound of that. But only if I get to pick the movies. If the standoff is less than two hours, Jules gets my DVDs and I want to watch my favorites in case I lose."

Gus finally cracked a smile. "You're using that as an excuse to get your pick of movies, aren't you?"

Busted. "I may have possibly gained magic knowledge of the exact length of the standoff."

"Ha! Totally cheating. If I wasn't feeling generous I'd take back your pick that I was already going to give you!"

"Yeah, right. You'd feel too guilty taking the pick away from a poor injured smoothie-brained psychic!"

"Would not!"

"Would too!"

They both laughed, happy in their own ways that there was some normalcy coming back.

As they drove on, a swarm of police cars and SWAT vans passed by headed in the other direction. Shawn wanted to turn back, he hated not being part of the action. With a sigh, he leaned back in his seat, trying to remind himself of the pain being back there brought. Now that he wasn't tuned into gangster fear, it was hard to keep down the desire. Gus, meanwhile, knew his partner too well. He knew if he made a comment, Shawn would start regretting turning around and not let that thought go. So he stayed silent and turned the radio up.

The drive continued to be silent, and soon enough, Shawn's exhaustion caught up with him. His headache dulled, but the mental toll to deal with it wiped his remaining energy. The road noise, raindrops, and serenade of the Thompson Twins were the perfect thing to lull him to a car nap. And this time, he had no dream.