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“Mr. Spencer never turns down a case. Actually, I think he’s worked on more cases he’s been banned from than actually hired for, at this point. In what universe would he refuse a case? What reason does he have not to help a little boy who was kidnapped?” Chief Vick asked, arms crossed, an interesting muddled mix of confusion, concern, and anger in her eyes.
Gus cleared his throat, trying to find a good excuse and struggling a bit under her steely gaze. “He’s having a bad week?”
“Oh and the kidnap victim isn’t?” Vick snapped, narrowing her eyes like she could pick apart Burton’s jugular with her stare. She might be able to. He was kind of scared she could.
“Well.. he’s just… not.. feeling so well?” Gus squeaked out, turning his head slightly like she’d hit him.
Her eyes narrowed again before the concern washed across her face, the tide dragging away the anger, “Is it his heart?”
Gus silently thanked Vick for the perfect answer, never quite as good with quick lies as Shawn was. It wasn’t even entirely a lie, just mostly. “Yeah. He’s just a little extra tired right now and I really think he could use the break. I’ve got him all but tied to his bed with reruns of Night Rider and enough Gatorade to last him at least until tomorrow.”
Vick seemed to consider this, her eyes still pulled in concern, “Okay… Just make sure he rests, Mr. Guster.”
“Can do!” Gus promised with a smile that was a little wobbly, turning to rush out before she asked any more.
“Oh, and Burton?” A first name, that was never a good sign.
“Y-Yeah?” Gus tried, hoping the stutter in his word was more mild than it felt slipping off his tongue.
“Make sure he knows we’re all here if he needs anything,” Vick reminded in a softer tone than she usually used.
Gus smiled, “Yeah, I will.”
And then he rushed back to Shawn’s place, assuming that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t, it never was, it seemed.
Gus wrangled Shawn the best he could for a few hours, coaxing him into a few lay downs, but never managing more than a couple minutes before Shawn was off like a shot again. He’d gotten him to eat, though it was microwaved nachos and a burrito he couldn’t fathom how long it had been sitting in Shawn’s fridge, but that was it. Then, off to work he had to go, his boss down his throat and Shawn repeatedly waving him off.
Gus silently prayed to whoever may be listening that Shawn stay put and safe until he got back. He didn’t bother praying for a wink of sleep, knowing it wouldn’t come.
Juliet, of course, was the one to knock on Shawn’s door two hours later. Gus should’ve expected it, especially after Vick’s sweet sentiment.
“Jules!” Shawn bellowed as he swung the door open to reveal her.
“Hey, Shawn. I just wanted to check in. Chief says you had some other stuff come up and couldn’t work on the kidnap case, so I wanted to see if you could use any help.”
Her eyes roamed over him, taking in the details. He was in a neon green T-shirt, the graphic so faded it was impossible to tell what it once was, his pajama pants a size too big and covering his feet like a kid. Shawn’s hair was tousled, not artfully like it sometimes was, but closer to what she’d seen when he was stressed. The dark stamps under his eyes were nearing the color of Lassiter’s tie this morning and he had stubble he’d clearly let grow out.
In short, he kind of looked like death warmed over. It didn’t make Juliet feel any more at ease.
“Oh, Jules, I’m swell!” Shawn argued, waving her inside and shutting the door behind her. He stepped around a pile of comics and hopped over the half sorted M&Ms he had in a variety of laundry detergent caps. “Gussy-Poo just has me on psychic lockdown.”
“Psychic lockdown?” She asked, glancing around as Shawn headed into the makeshift kitchen, digging around in a cabinet for God knows what.
Shawn’s voice was a little muffled through the cabinet, but she could understand him well enough, “Yesh. Sometimes the spirits just don’t let up, you know? And then Gus gets a little too worried and he puts me on lockdown.”
That explained nothing, which was probably the point. Juliet had noticed, Shawn tended to be more vague about his gift, he always had.
“Are you okay?” She tried, wording it again a little more directly to see if Shawn would feel any more inclined to give a straighter answer.
He gave up on the cabinet then, turning, looking around with half wild eyes. Shawn grabbed a robe from a nearby chair and pulled it on, pushing the sleeves up immediately, defeating the entire purpose of the robe. “Yeah, yeah. Stellar.”
Juliet pursed her lips, swallowing uncomfortably, unsure what to do in this moment.
Thankfully, she didn’t need to wait long. Shawn turned and looked at her, almost like he was just seeing her, “Hey! What do you say we go out? Do something fun! We can ride my bike up the coast and harass the tourists?”
Juliet frowned, crunching her forehead into overlapping lines, “Shawn, you said Gus has you on psychic lockdown…whatever that is. Should you really be going out?”
Shawn huffed, loud and dramatic, “Can’t take up a new hobby, can’t go driving, can’t drink any Red Bull. What can I do?” He began to pace around, grabbing random bits and bobs from varying surfaces and beginning to stick them inside the pockets of the clothes hung on the movable rack on his wall. “It’s always just ‘You need rest, Shawn.’ ‘Mythbusters says laying down with your eyes closed is better than nothing, Shawn.’ ‘Where did you even get Pixie Stix, Shawn??’” His voice switched between what she’d come to know as his Gus impression and a lower, more creaky tone that probably mimicked Henry.
He huffed another sigh, glancing at Juliet as if she’d understand, “I mean, really, he knows I always have a stash somewhere in the house. I don’t know why he’s surprised anymore.”
Puzzling it out, Juliet spoke slow, confused but maybe starting to get some of the picture, “Shawn… when was the last time you slept?”
Shawn just waved his hand off towards the wall, mostly shutting her question down with his dismissal, but he waved in the direction of the wall enough that Juliet glanced over. There was a sheet of paper tacked to the wall with Gus’ neat, tiny handwriting scrawled across it.
Monday, the 18th: Shawn called at 4 am to ask about a Kilmer marathon. He was three deep. I came over and we watched until 8 when I made him shower and eat. Day One
Tuesday the 19th: Day Two. Shawn did okay, but read through the comic backlog and finished three puzzles while I slept. Henry is off fishing.
Wednesday the 20th: 20 minute nap, collectively, not continuously. Shawn getting euphoric. No irritability yet. Appetite decrease.
Thursday the 21st was blank, likely as it was current day. Juliet hissed in through her teeth. Three days, no sleep? That was not good.
“Shawn, why don’t we try and lay down?” She offered, softening her voice, trying to keep it away from the tone she used with victims, but not fully succeeding.
Shawn looked up from where he was now shuffling through a stack of business cards he’d found in one of the pockets, bending the edges on each, “Do you really think I haven’t tried, Jules? It’s not that easy.”
“Is… this something you deal with a lot?” She paused, adding, “the visions getting overwhelming?…”
“It’s not the visions so much. The energy. Just suddenly full of it, like a burst of sunshine,” He grinned at her, briefly his normal self as he aimed the words towards her like an unspoken compliment was tangled inside of them, “It’s hard to shake.”
“Sleeping pills?” She asked, noticing he hadn’t quite answered her original question, deflecting towards another vague explanation instead of a structured frequency.
“Mess with my head, make me groggy for days,” Shawn answered, shaking his head as he shoved the bent cards back into the pocket of a jacket that was clearly not his own, “I’m sharper this way. I keep trying to tell Gus I can still work on cases, but he won’t let me.”
Juliet couldn’t argue with Gus’ decision here, as it felt the smartest. “How often does this happen, Shawn?”
He struggled, fingers idly fiddling with the tie on the grey robe he'd shrugged on, “Enough? Once every few months or so… Sometimes more. Depends. But it really isn’t a big deal, Jules! I’m fine, seriously.”
Shawn sighed, staring wistfully towards the small fridge he had, as if it was a lover he’d lost, “I’d be better if Gus would stop taking all my energy drinks.”
“Shawn!” Juliet scolded, face crumbling again in a cute mask of disapproval, “You shouldn’t be drinking those things if you need sleep! Or with your heart.”
Shawn rolled his eyes, moaning out over dramatically, “You sound just like Gus and my daddddd!”
“They’re right!”
“They’re boring! If I’m going to be awake anyway, I may as well have extra energy to do fun stuff. Especially if Gus is gonna lock me inside my house until I sleep a ‘decent amount.’ I mean, really?? What even is decent?? That can’t be qualified!”
“I’d say a few hours, at least, Shawn!” Juliet tried hopelessly, eyes wide.
“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen! So we can all give up on the silly little dream and let me do something that isn’t utterly boring. I mean, I can feel my brain cells withering away to nothing. Soon enough, I’ll have the same amount as Lassie.”
“Shawn,” Juliet warned again, frown covering her face like a terrible mask.
Shawn just waved her off again, turning to look around for something else to keep his hands and mind busy, but Juliet wasn’t done.
“Gus is right. You really should lay down and try to sleep. Trying is better than nothing.”
Like a lightning strike, Shawn suddenly snapped, volcanic heat bubbling up and exploding from his mouth in a way she’d never heard before, “You think I’ve never thought of that before?? Come on! I’ve been dealing with this since I was a kid. I have tried every trick in the book. I have tried laying down and closing my eyes, cognitive shuffling, counting all the sheep I have ever encountered—And I once lived in New Zealand and there are a lot of fucking sheep there! Nothing works!”
Juliet slid past the odd comment about counting sheep, ascribing it to Shawn’s delirium, but she did take a half step back at his words, feeling guilt pool in her mouth like saliva before you barf your guts up. “You’re right… it’s unfair of me to assume you haven’t tried that before..”
Shawn sighed, deflating. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled in a rushed puff, eyes shut for just a moment too long. Then he straightened up, “Sorry.”
Juliet gave a one shoulder shrug, nodding her head towards the weird little log on the wall, “Guess the irritability set in? But it was a fair thing to be annoyed about.”
Shawn quirked a smile that really was more of his lips twitching upward momentarily, “Yeah, guess so.”
“So….” Juliet began, slowly, “What comes next?”
“Next?”
Juliet nodded, “Sleep deprivation symptoms. You seem to know them well, especially your own. What comes next?”
Shawn shrugged, eyes on the ground in a rare display of self consciousness, “I usually get a little too happy, then nice and snappy, and then.. overly emotional.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not once you’ve seen me cry over an episode of Rugrats the way Gus does over those dog commercials.”
Juliet laughed a little, startling even herself, “Okay. So we’re in the snappy phase?”
Shawn shrugged, then nodded. “Seems like it. That’s probably good, honestly… Usually…” He paused, unsure.
Juliet stepped towards him and grabbed at his hand, gentle, hesitant, “It means?”
Shawn chewed at his lip nervously for a minute before he sighed, squeezing her fingers slightly, “Usually angry doesn’t last too long unless I’m alone. Once the over emotional kicks in I turn into a drunk baby. Eventually I’ll pass out.”
Humming, Juliet nodded, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. So, let’s go put on the saddest movie I can find and we can cry on the couch and eat whatever’s in your freezer until you fall asleep.”
Shawn’s eyes shown, unbelieving, “Even if all I’ve got in there is a tub of whipped cream and a half eaten container of pineapple sorbet from Gus’ ninja creamy?”
Juliet laughed, smiling properly for the first time since she arrived, “I love frozen whipped cream. That sounds perfect.”
Shawn beamed back, “Okay. Go pick a movie and I’ll grab some spoons.”
They broke apart and Juliet went to rifle through the stacks of DVDs around the tv, pausing halfway into her first tower, “Gus has a ninja creamy?”
Shawn smirked at her, a story glimmering behind his eyes as he loaded up his arms with frozen treats and two small spoons, “Not anymore.”
Juliet laughed until her sides hurt and Shawn did, too.