PSYCH: 1930 (PG-13), Shawn/Lassiter.

[laytoncolt]

See a penny, pick it up (and all the day you'll have good luck).



back to part two

Lassiter returns to the hospital at seven. He finds Henry leaning beside the door to Shawn's room and drinking a coffee. He nods to Lassiter. "He's doing good," he says, without having to be asked. "Doctors think he should be able to leave in a couple days."

Lassiter hovers near the door, trying to see in the room. He catches a glimpse of Shawn's hand, before turning to look back at Henry. "No complications?"

Henry shakes his head. "Everything looks fine. Either the shooter knew where to shoot him that would do the least damage, or Shawn got lucky. Personally, I've learned never to underestimate Shawn's luck."

Lassiter gives a slight grin. "Where's Guster?"

"I sent him home," Henry says. "He didn't sleep all night, he was convinced something was going to go wrong."

Lassiter nods. "But nothing has," he says again, just to be sure.

"No, everything's been fine here," Henry says, and then adds causally, "you been to the station?"

"Yes," Lassiter says. "The two mercenaries are talking. They're more than willing to give up their boss. Some Australian named Aiden Prost. Jack used to work for him twenty years ago."

Henry runs a hand down his face. "And Jack?"

"He's talking too," Lassiter says, "but what we can actually charge him with is fuzzy. He's an accomplice to the original theft, but that took place in Australia twenty years ago and we have no evidence. As for the debacle with Bouchard's treasure, despite his partners trying to put the blame on him, they were the ones caught with the smoking guns."

Henry shakes his head. "Jack's slippery, always has been. He's never been arrested, you know. Not once. I would have done it myself if I could have ever pinned anything on him, but the closest he ever came was when I filed kidnapping charges against him."

Lassiter frowns. "Kidnapping charges?"

"Shawn stowed away on his plane, ended up in Australia. And all Jack does about it is leave a message on my machine, saying hey, Shawn's with me, we're looking for treasure, he'll be home soon," Henry says. "I about killed him."

Lassiter doesn't know if he means Shawn or Jack, and doesn't ask. "He ended up in Australia?" he asks instead. "I thought you were too angry for it to be just a grudge against the Outback. You must have been furious."

Henry snorts. "Well, with Shawn and Jack, I kind of always expected the unexpected, but yeah, I was pretty furious. I forgave Jack eventually, though. I'm not sure I can forgive him for this."

"He's still being held at the station," Lassiter says after a moment. "If you wanted to speak with him."

"I'm not sure I trust myself to see him," Henry says. "Shawn said something to me, god, was it just yesterday? He said we love until we hate. He's my brother, and I love him, but I don't want him in my life. Not after this."

Lassiter nods. "I just thought--"

"No, I know, and I do, I need to speak with him," Henry says. He downs the rest of his coffee and then turns back to look at him. "Do you think you could stay with Shawn? I don't want him to wake up alone."

Lassiter frowns. "Has he been disoriented? Anxious?" he asks in concern.

"Hardly," he says. "He just has a thing about hospitals. The minute he's alone he'll check himself out. Shawn had to have his tonsils out when he was eleven, morning after surgery, Maddy and I went to get coffee, came back and he was gone. We found him across the street at the Baskin Robbins, eating ice cream in his pajamas."

Lassiter gives a slight grin. "How did he pay for it?"

"Didn't have to. Damn kid said it was his birthday," he says, and starts to walk away. "They gave it to him for free."

Lassiter watches as Henry disappears around the corner, and then carefully enters the room. Shawn's sleeping when he enters. He spent about an hour watching Shawn sleep that first night together, and even then Shawn had been moving, sighing and turning and even laughing in his sleep. He's too still now. Lassiter hopes it's just the medication.

He sits down in the chair and puts his elbows on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands. "You ruin everything, you know," he says softly. "Nothing's gone right since the moment I met you. Everything I thought I knew--" Lassiter looks up, but Shawn still isn't moving. "You aren't who I thought you were," he admits after a moment. "You're--"

"--incredible?" Shawn guesses.

"Infuriating," Lassiter snaps, trying to hide his relief as Shawn opens his eyes.

"Ingenious," Shawn corrects.

"Ignoble," Lassiter says.

"You can't just make words up," Shawn protests.

"I didn't make it up, Shawn," Lassiter pauses, once again at a loss of what to do with the incredible, infuriating, ingenious and ignoble Shawn Spencer. "You know, if you didn't want to go out with me, there are easier ways to break a date."

Shawn gives him a faint grin. "I had to make sure our date was really really bad," he says. "This way our next one is bound to be better."

"Our next one, huh?" Lassiter asks.

"This time, I'll make dinner," Shawn promises. "You'll be amazed by the things I can do with an Easy Bake Oven."

"Right now you just worry about getting better," Lassiter says, going for stern.

"I'm on the good drugs," Shawn says. "I'm feeling no pain."

"That's not going to last," Lassiter says with a frown. "Trust me, getting shot isn't any fun."

"You've been shot?" Shawn asks.

Lassiter nods. "It was my third year on the force, drug dealer," he says. "I got shot in the leg."

"Three inches above your left knee," Shawn says. "I saw the scar."

Lassiter looks startled. "Yeah," he says. "That's some memory."

"Knife gash across your right arm, right below the elbow," Shawn says, closing his eyes. "Those scars on your collar bone and right above your heart, car accident, right?"

Lassiter frowns, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah. Car chase. I went through the windshield."

"Gotta wear your seatbelt, Lassie," Shawn says. "It's the law."

"How do you know all that?" Lassiter asks. "I mean, I know we--but the lighting was awful and you--"

"Psychic," Shawn says. "I really need to get that embroidered on all my shirts. People keep forgetting."

"You're not psychic," Lassiter says. He leans forward. "If you were, how could you have let this happen?"

Shawn glances over at him. "I don't see the future, Lassie," he says. "Not that kind of psychic."

"Convenient," Lassiter says.

"Not really," Shawn says. "It'd be a lot more convenient if I could see the future."

"But you can't," Lassiter says. "Because you're not psychic, and the truth is, I don't think I even care anymore, because that you aren't just makes what you do that much more amazing. . . it's just--you have to start being more careful. Okay? Because you don't know everything."

"Careful's my middle name," Shawn says. "Well, one of them. I go by many middle names."

"This is serious," he says. "This can't happen again, you understand? Do you know how terrified I was? I couldn't do my job, Spencer, I was so goddamned worried about you I didn't care about anything else."

"Everything worked out," Shawn says. "You did your job exactly how you were supposed to, and I did what I had to, too."

"That's just it, you didn't," Lassiter snaps. "When you threw me out the other night, Jack was there, wasn't he?"

"I couldn't tell you," Shawn says softly. "I wanted to, but I couldn't. Jack's family."

"You could have been killed," he snaps.

"You could be killed every day you go to work," Shawn says. "It doesn't stop you."

"But it's my job, I signed on for this," Lassiter says. "You don't know what you're getting into."

Shawn laughs. "Oh, believe me, I've got a pretty good idea. You forget, I grew up with cops. And maybe you chose your job, but my job chose me."

"You're not going to give me some speech about your psychic calling, are you?" Lassiter asks.

"No, I meant the detective part of psychic detective," he says. "For the first time in my life I feel like I've got a purpose. You read my file. Before this, I'd never held a job for more than six months."

"You're good at it," Lassiter says quietly, almost quietly enough that Shawn couldn't hear.

"What was that you said?" Shawn asks, eyes widening.

"I said you're good at it," Lassiter says grudgingly.

Shawn grins widely. "Wow," he says. "That's almost as nice as that time you told me that I astound you."

Lassiter frowns. "I never said that."

"Yes you did," Shawn says. "And then you fell off your barstool."

Lassiter's eyes widen in horror. "I thought that was nightmare," he says, and then he seems to realize something. "How come you never teased me about that?"

"Because I didn't want you to say it wasn't true," Shawn tells him.

Lassiter leans over and kisses Shawn gently. "It was true," he whispers. "And if you ever tell another soul I'll deny it until my dying day."

Shawn pulls Lassiter back when he moves away, kissing him again. Lassiter is more than happy to comply, until Shawn lets out an involuntary hiss of pain, and he moves away with a frown. "You okay?" he demands.

Shawn nods, but leans back against the bed. "Yeah, but you know what I really want? Another one of those pineapple smoothies."

Lassiter furrows his brow. "You want me to go get you a smoothie?"

"Aw, Lassie, that's so sweet of you!" Shawn says, and smiles. "Could you? I think they were selling them in the cafeteria here."

Lassiter reluctantly gets to his feet. "I've been warned about the Baskin Robbins incident, you know," he says.

Shawn rolls his eyes. "You know, my dad's turned into quite the gossip. Also, I think he's becoming senile. It's best you don't listen to him."

"Shawn," Lassiter warns.

"I'm not going anywhere," Shawn promises.

"Okay," he says after a moment. "I'll be right back."

Shawn gently pushes himself into a seated position, leaning forward to watch Lassiter leave. Shawn pulls Lassiter's cell phone out from between the sheets, a little surprised he'd managed to sneak it out of the detective's pocket without being caught, considering his current one-handed condition. He makes a mental note for later reference that Lassiter zones out during make out sessions and dials Juliet.

"O'Hara!" he says, in his best Lassie-voice. "I need you to track something down for me, A.S.A.P!"

"Shawn?" Juliet says. "Oh my god, are you alright?"

"Aw, come on, Jules, that was a pretty good Lassie impression!" Shawn protests. "You could have at least pretended not to know it was me."

"Shawn," Juliet says again, this time slightly exasperated. "Are you okay? Why do you have Lassiter's phone? You're supposed to be in the hospital!"

"I am in the hospital," Shawn says. "And so is Lassiter's phone. He left it here."

"He takes that phone with him everywhere," Juliet says suspiciously. "I'm pretty sure he sleeps with it."

"Okay, so maybe it got caught on my fingers when my hand innocently found its way into his pocket, and I thought I'd give you a ring while he went to get me a pineapple smoothie," Shawn says.

"Now I know you're lying," Juliet says. "He'd never buy you a smoothie."

Shawn grins. "You caught me," he says. "But listen, Jules, I need a favor."

"I don't like the sound of that," Juliet says.

"It's nothing," Shawn says quickly. "It's just a tiny little favor. It's like hardly a favor at all. I just need to get a hold of someone. Can you get me a phone number?"

"What's this about?" Juliet asks hesitantly.

Shawn pretends not to hear her. "He lives in Adelaide, Australia. His name's Arnold Cramer. I just need the number."

"Are you still working this case?" Juliet demands. "Because we're taking care of everything, Shawn, you just need to get better."

"I'm good, Jules, I'm resting and everything, what can one phone call hurt?" he asks. "I won't even need to get out of bed."

"I don't know, Shawn," Juliet says.

"Jules, this is important," Shawn says earnestly.

"Okay," Juliet says after a moment. "I'll let you know if I find anything, but no promises, okay?"

"You're the best," Shawn says, before ending the call. He sets the phone on the dresser and lies back, tapping his fingers impatiently against the railing on the bed as he waits for Lassiter to come back.

- - - - -

Juliet hangs up the phone. She knows she's heard the name Arnold Cramer somewhere before. She pulls out her notes from the case and glances down the list. She's pretty sure that Jack had mentioned the name in one of his interrogations.

"You're O'Hara, right?"

She looks up, startled, pushing the notes away. "Mr. Spencer! Yes. Uh. Can I help you with something? Is Shawn okay?"

Henry nods. "Yeah. I'd like to see Jack."

She frowns. Jack was still sitting in one of the interrogation rooms awaiting Lassiter's return, and sending in family wasn't exactly proper procedure--but nothing about this situation had been ordinary.

"Lassiter suggested it," Henry says, after a moment. "I won't be long."

Juliet nods, and pushes away from the desk. "Your conversation, I mean, it will be monitored--"

"I should hope so," Henry says.

"Right," Juliet says, letting out a breath. "This way."

"Thanks," Henry says.

"Shawn seems like he's doing really well," Juliet says conversationally. "He sounds like himself."

"You went to see him?" Henry asks.

"No, he--" Juliet cuts herself off, and then smiles. "Yes."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Henry asks suspiciously.

"Oh, look, we're here," Juliet says quickly, opening the door. "Try not to take longer than ten minutes, okay?"

Henry nods and moves past her. Jack glances over at him. Henry notices the shoe print smudges along the floor against the back wall and figures Jack has spent most of his time here pacing. "How's Shawn?" Jack demands instantly.

Henry feels something inside lighten slightly. He may still be far from forgiving his brother, but that he's been here worrying about Shawn and not himself helps. "He's going to be fine," he says.

Jack nods. "Good, that's good," he says. "I should be out of here soon, so I can see him."

"I wouldn't make any plans," Henry says. "They're not happy with you."

"They don't have anything on me," Jack says, biting at one of his nails. "They know they don't. They're just holding me for as long as they can."

"They're going to charge you," Henry says. "They're just trying to decide on what."

"You need to talk to them, Henry," he says. "You know I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"You never do, Jack," Henry says, and drops down into one of the chairs.

Jack moves into the one across from him. "I need to see Shawn," he says. "Shawnie will understand, he always does."

"You want to know why I was always so hard on him?" Henry asks quietly. "I saw so much of you in him. Good looks, charm, sense of humor--ability to talk himself out of trouble. I was terrified that he was going to end up like you."

Jack gives a sly grin. "So you thought you'd turn him into you instead?"

Henry ignores him. "But it turns out, I shouldn't have worried," he says. "He was never going to end up like you. Because all that stuff you have in common, it's only the good stuff. Shawn got only the best of all of us, so he's never had your cruel streak."

"Henry, I'm--"

"I'd like to tell you to stay the hell away from my kid," Henry says, "but he loves you. Probably always will. You're always going to be his Uncle Jack. That's partly my fault. I thought it would be good for him."

"Henry, please--"

"So I won't tell you to stay away from him, but listen to me very carefully--he ever gets hurt because of you again, it's the last you're going to do." Henry pushes up from the table and spins towards the door.

"Henry, wait!" Jack calls. Henry pauses at the door, but doesn't look back. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"Yeah, you always are, Jack," Henry says, and looks at the floor. "But being sorry's the easy part. It's what you do in the first place that needs to change."

Henry goes out the door, and this time Jack doesn't call him back.

- - - - -

Lassiter looks flustered when he finally returns. "They don't have any pineapple smoothies here, I had to go to the Fruity Juicy," he says. "Are you sure you're supposed to have this?"

Shawn immediately snatches the smoothie out of Lassiter's hand when he notices the hesitation. "Of course," he says. "Pineapples have amazing medicinal powers. Once a man was stranded on a deserted island with nothing but pineapples, and he lived to be a hundred and thirty five. True story."

"That's not a true story," Lassiter says.

"No, it's not, but it could be, you never know," Shawn says.

Lassiter frowns when he sees his cell phone, and reaches out to grab it. "How did--"

"Hey, wait!" Shawn protests. "I'm expecting a call."

Lassiter glares at him. "From who?" he demands. "You're supposed to be sitting there quietly doing nothing at all."

Shawn slurps up half the smoothie. "Dude, do you know me at all?"

"You were shot, Spencer," Lassiter snaps. "You're going to stay out of this from here on out, understand?"

"You're really hot when you get all authoritative," Shawn says.

Lassiter opens his mouth to retort, but his phone rings before he has the chance. He answers it quickly, ignoring Shawn's attempt to grab it. "Lassiter."

"Is it for me?" Shawn demands.

Lassiter ignores him. "Got it," he says, and hangs up the phone. "That was O'Hara."

Shawn brightens. "Did she get it?"

Lassiter narrows his eyes. "Get what?" he asks.

Shawn glances down at the smoothie. "Those new shoes she's been wanting?"

Lassiter shakes his head. "She was calling about Prost," he says. "He just booked a flight back to Australia. We're going to pick him up before he can get on it. Are you going to be okay here?"

"Go," Shawn says. "I'll be fine."

Lassiter hesitates. "Stay out of this, Spencer, I mean it, okay?"

"How stupid do you think I am?" Shawn asks. "Do you really think I'm going to follow you to hunt down some crazy Australian criminal mastermind?"

"I never know what you're going to do, that's what worries me," Lassiter says.

"Well, rest easy," Shawn says. "I promise I'm not going after Prost. I'll leave that entirely to you."

Lassiter nods, then shyly leans down to kiss Shawn. "Be good," he says, before rushing out the door to meet with O'Hara. He's back in a moment, coming to a stop near Shawn's bed and glaring, and holding out his hand.

Shawn reluctantly hands back the cell phone. "It fell out of your jacket," he tells him.

"Incorrigible," Lassiter says, heading out again.

"Inventive!" Shawn shouts after him, only half-heartedly, depressed at having lost the cell phone. Shawn leans back in the bed and closes his eyes for a moment. His shoulder is throbbing dully, but it was mostly still being muffled by the pain medication.

He's just considering maybe going ahead and doing that sleep thing when Shakira's Whenever, Wherever starts chiming from the closet to his right. Shawn grins. That was the ringtone he had made specific to Juliet's phone calls.

Shawn wrestles with the IV and eventually manages to get on his feet, moving along the wall to open the closet. His jeans and shoes are neatly folded on the shelf, but his socks are missing. He's pretty sure they threw away his shirt. He sees his cell phone and snaps it open.

"Jules?" he says brightly. "Did you get it?"

"Yes, Shawn, but I don't see how this is going to help," Juliet says, and she sounds rushed.

"Are you on your way to get Prost?" Shawn asks.

"Yes, how did you--nevermind," Juliet says. "Can you please just tell me why you need this number? What's going on?"

"I don't know yet, I don't know if it's going to tell me anything at all," he says.

Juliet sighs, and Shawn can tell she's giving in. "Do you know the country code?" she asks.

Shawn snorts. "61. Who do you think you're talking to? I was an international telemarketer for like three whole weeks once."

"Right," Juliet says, and Shawn can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "The number is 8 8479 5530."

"You're amazing, thank you," Shawn says.

"I know," Juliet says. "But you really need to be resting."

"I am," Shawn says.

"You are going to tell me what you're up to, right?" Juliet asks suspiciously.

"I promise, I will," he says. "It's just not quite clear, yet, Jules, I think the injury is inhibiting my abilities. That's why I've got to do some actual research."

"Just please be careful, Shawn," Juliet says. "Let me know if you find anything. Don't do anything on your own, okay? You need to stay in the hospital and get well."

"It's going to be fine, Juliet," Shawn says. "I'll call you later."

Shawn ends the call, and quickly dials the number Juliet gave him, reciting it over in his head so he won't forget. A man answers on the third ring. "Yes?"

"Mr. Cramer?" Shawn asks. "I'm a consultant for the SBPD here in Santa Barbara, California. We may have located some information relevant to some stolen goods of yours."

"What have you found?" Cramer asks immediately.

"Well, that's why we're calling, sir, we're not quite sure," he says. "We have some persons of interest in custody that may have been responsible for the robbery, but we haven't been able to find any record of what was taken and they claim they don't know."

"It was a penny," Cramer says.

Shawn pauses. "Excuse me, sir? I don't think I heard that correctly."

"A penny," Cramer says. "A proof 1930 penny. There's only six of them in existence. If I still had mine, it would be valued at over a million dollars."

Shawn remembers what his Uncle Jack said, They even took the pennies from my pockets. "Mr. Cramer? I'll have to get back to you," Shawn says, and hangs up the phone.

Getting dressed is a little problematic, but eventually Shawn manages to get into his jeans, and push his sneakers on. He doesn't bother to tie them. He half tucks in the hospital gown to make himself presentable, but it's basically a useless effort.

He looks at himself in the mirror and frowns. His hair is sticking up with a serious case of bed head, and with his hospital gown acting as a shirt and his untied shoes he looks a little like an escapee from the Psych ward. "Great," he says to himself. "I don't look crazy at all."

Shawn grabs his teddy bear and the balloons, but he has a lot of trouble holding onto them, and figures that the giant teddy probably makes him look that much more psychotic.

Shawn leans against the counter at the reception desk, trying not to breath too heavily and ruin the totally fine vibe that he's going for. "Hi," he says. "Shawn Spencer. I need to check out."

The nurses' eyes are wide as she watches him. "Are you due to be released today?" she asks suspiciously.

"I don't generally wait until I'm released, I like the express checkout," Shawn says.

"Mr. Spencer, you were shot," she says quietly, leaning forward like it’s a secret that maybe he doesn't know.

"I know," Shawn says. "The crippling pain in my shoulder is a dead giveaway, but I'm going to be just as well off somewhere else as here, and no offense or anything, but I'd rather it were somewhere else."

Her eyes narrow. "Let me get the doctor," she says.

"No, that's not--" Shawn breaks off because she's already gone. She's back in a record time with a tall man trailing behind her.

He eyes Shawn speculatively. "What seems to be the problem here?" he asks.

"I'm checking out," Shawn says.

"You need to stay here at least another day," the doctor protests.

Shawn shakes his head. "I'll sign whatever you want me to, but I've got to get out of here. Don't worry, I'm going to rest at home, drink plenty of fluids, call you in the morning. I know the procedure."

The doctor frowns, but nods to the nurse. "I really don't think this is a good idea," he says. "But if you're going to insist--is Mr. Spencer's prescription ready?"

The nurse nods. "I'll get it."

Shawn signs on the dotted line. "I won't be alone," he says. "And I can promise you that someone will drag me back here first sign of a problem." Shawn grins. "Thanks for saving my life by the way, have a balloon."

Shawn gives him one of the pineapples, and the doctor stares at it bemusedly. The nurse comes back with Shawn's prescription, and he sticks it in his pocket before starting for the exit. He wants to make his escape before they can change their minds.

He pauses when he sees a little girl asleep in one of the rooms, and slips inside to leave the bear in the chair in the corner with the balloons tied to its wrist. Eventually Shawn makes his way out of the hospital, and he drops down onto one of the benches to call Gus. "I need you to come pick me up," he says without preamble.

"Shawn, where are you?" Gus demands.

"Outside the hospital," Shawn says. "I'm starting to attract strange looks. Can you get here fast?"

"Get back in the hospital, Shawn!" Gus shouts.

"I have something I need to do, and it's probably stupid, but I'm doing it anyway, and you said I had to let you come with me when I did stupid things," Shawn says. "So. Come pick me up."

"That's not exactly what I said, Shawn," Gus snaps.

"No, what you said exactly was 'I don't care how stupid what you're doing is, I should be right there with you, being stupid,'" Shawn says. "So come pick me up."

"You know I hate it when you quote me," Gus says. "I was stressed. I was under duress. You'd just been shot. I didn't know what I was saying."

"No take backs," Shawn says. "Gus, seriously, I need a ride. Come pick me up."

- - - - -

Shawn quickly slips into the little blue car when Gus pulls up. Gus reaches over when Shawn struggles with the seatbelt, and straps him in before driving off.

"How did you escape?" Gus demands.

"Dude, I wasn't locked up in the psych ward, and you're allowed to check yourself out of the hospital," Shawn says.

"Well, you certainly look like an escaped mental patient, you're still in the hospital gown, Shawn!" Gus snaps.

"Yeah, well, my shirt was cut off me and thrown away, and anyway, it's surprisingly hard to get dressed with one arm strapped to your chest. I can't get this stupid sling thing off," he says.

"You're not supposed to take it off! You got shot!" Gus shouts.

"Yeah, and I'm going to have a really awesome scar, what's your point?" Shawn asks. "Also, you know you're totally going to have to help me get dressed, right?"

"I’m not helping you get dressed, Shawn. Why don't you just call your boyfriend?" Gus asks.

"Because Lassiter would have tied me to the bed, and not in the fun way," Shawn says.

"I don't want to know that, Shawn." Gus stares straight ahead, stiff and angry. "You just keep all that time you spend with Lassiter to yourself."

"Wait, is that what this is about?" Shawn asks. "You're jealous that I've been spending time with Lassiter?"

"You called him your partner, Shawn," Gus snaps.

"Yeah, once, like two months ago, Gus!" Shawn says. "Look, I assure you, Lassiter is an entirely different kind of partner than you. You're irreplaceable."

Gus gives a slow smug grin, and adjusts his tie. "You know that's right," he says. "So am I taking you home?"

Shawn shakes his head. "No, we've got to go to my dad's house," Shawn says.

"You're going to stay with your father voluntarily?" Gus asks with disbelief.

"No, Gus, I just need to go there, and then leave again," Shawn says. "All you have to do is drive there."

"But your father isn't home," Gus says. "He went to the police station."

"I know he isn't home," Shawn says. "He's the last person I want to see right now. He's probably going to freak out a little when he finds out I checked myself out AMA."

"You checked out AMA?" Gus asks shrilly. "Shawn!"

"They said it was the only way I could leave," Shawn tells him. "What does that even stand for, anyway? Awesome Man Assaulted?"

"Against medical advice," Gus says. "It means you need to still be in the hospital."

"Well, it's just advice, Gus," Shawn says. "It says so right in the acronym."

Gus's jaw tightens. "Do you even realize what happened to you?" he asks. "You were--"

"Shot, yes, it's been established, Gus," Shawn says, and pulls a little pill bottle out, shaking it, "but it turns out you can get the good drugs to-go."

"You still need to be in the hospital, Shawn, what if it gets infected?" he demands.

"It's not going to get infected," Shawn says. "And if it does, the hospital is like five minutes away."

"It's eight minutes away," Gus protests. "Eight minutes, Shawn."

"Did you drive all through Santa Barbara with a stopwatch or something? How do you always know the exact time in minutes from one place to another?" Shawn asks. "You're like some kind of savant."

"I have a very accurate internal clock," Gus says. "And eight minutes can mean life or death."

"I'm pretty sure you can't die of infection in eight minutes," Shawn says.

"You're missing my point," he snaps. "This is a bad idea."

"Yeah, but it's fun, right?" Shawn asks. "I would have gone crazy in that hospital."

"You're crazy to have left it," Gus argues.

"Well, crazy either way," Shawn admits. "But at least this way I'm not bored."

Gus glares at him as he parks at the back of Henry's house. "What do you need? I'll go get it," he says.

Shawn shakes his head. "No, I have to get it," he says. "And I need to grab one of my spare shirts."

Gus continues to frown, but eventually nods, and runs around the car to help Shawn out. Shawn tolerates his fussing with bad grace, and eventually succeeds in pushing him away. "Dude, cut it out!" Shawn says.

Gus glares at him, then steps back and crosses his arms. Shawn lets out a breath, and glances out of the car. He gets a little dizzy looking at the ground, and it really shouldn't look so far down for such a small car. "Okay, fine," Shawn says. "Help me up."

Gus gives him a very smug look and then gently pulls him up by his right arm. Shawn leans back against the car and waves him away again, pointing at the porch light. "Key's on top of the light," he says.

Gus walks over and reaches up to grab it. "Doesn't seem like Henry to leave that there," he says.

"He didn't," Shawn says. "I like to leave spare keys all around the house. He finds them and gets rid of them. It's one of our little games."

"That's messed up, Shawn," Gus says.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have to do it if he would just give me my own key," he says. "But he wouldn't, so I went to a locksmith and had twenty of them made. He still hasn't found the one under the welcome mat, but he found the one I buried in the garden, how hilarious is that?"

"You're going to feel bad if some robber finds a key and robs the house," Gus says, opening the door and leading the way in.

"I might feel bad for the robber," Shawn says, "because Henry keeps tazers and stun guns hidden all over this house the way I do keys in the backyard, and I'm pretty sure he still sleeps with a gun under his pillow."

Gus snorts as they walk into the house, and Shawn pauses at the bottom of the stairs and looks up. "Um, Gus?" he says.

Gus glares at him. "You can't get up those stairs, can you?" he demands. "Damn it, Shawn, you need--"

"Help," Shawn interrupts. "So are you going to help me up or not?"

Gus moves to Shawn's uninjured side and gently helps him climb the stairs, despite the glare he gives him the whole way up. Shawn drops down onto his bed when they reach his room and closes his eyes. "Oh my god," he says, "I think my dad added a few extra stories to the this house since I've been here last."

"No, it's just that you've been shot--"

"You seem kind of stuck on that," he says, and waves a hand towards his closet. "Can you find me a shirt?"

Gus walks over to the closet, pulls a blue and white checkered button down shirt from the closet and throws it on the bed beside Shawn. Shawn nods gratefully. "Okay, now put it on me."

Gus's eyes widen disbelievingly. "I told you I'm not dressing you, Shawn," he says.

Shawn pushes himself up off the bed. "Are you going to make me walk around like this?" Shawn asks. "Because I will, Gus, and I swear, if you don't help me I'm going to break out my Lenny."

"No Lenny, Shawn!" Gus snaps. "Fine. Okay. Whatever. Turn around."

Gus unties the hospital gown and then pulls open the velcro sling, carefully pulling it off. Shawn lets out a faint cry and Gus glares at him. "Shawn, you need to be in the hospital."

Shawn keeps his eyes closed and motions towards his checkered shirt with his good hand. "Just help me get the shirt on," he says.

Gus carefully helps him lower his arm and put the shirt on, checking the bandage to make sure he hasn't bled through, and then does up the buttons before putting the sling back on. "You're nuts, you know that, right?" Gus says. "What's so important that you can't stay in the hospital one more day?"

"I told you, it's boring there, Gus, and it smells awful, and the food is gross, and the television only gets three channels, and the sheets are rough, and--"

"Okay," Gus interrupts. "You don't like hospitals. I get it. But this isn't something you can just walk off."

"You can't sleep it off, either," Shawn says. "Okay. Now tie my shoes."

Gus looked down at Shawn's shoes. "You have to be kidding me," he says.

"This is what best friends are for, Gus! To help you move, and tie your shoes, and help you hide the bodies," he says.

"I'm not helping you with any bodies, Shawn, that time at our thirteen year Reunion was the absolute last time," Gus says. "And I'm only going to tie your shoes because you're stupid and got yourself shot. This is a one time deal."

"I didn't actually get myself shot," Shawn says. "It was more that I was at my apartment, minding my own business, and then I woke up tied to a chair being shot."

Gus frowns at this story as he kneels down to double-knot Shawn's tennis shoes. Henry had told him what had happened, but Gus had been so worked up that he only understood about half of what had been said. "You mean you weren't out investigating?" he asks.

"No, I was inside my apartment investigating," Shawn says. "But the point is, they were already coming after me before I did anything, Jack--" He stops himself before he finishes that sentence, deciding he doesn't want to tell anyone what Jack had done, not even Gus. "Jack said that they knew I was with him on that trip to Australia."

"You were just a kid," Gus says, standing and dusting off his hands. He tries not to notice that there are specks of dried blood on Shawn's jeans. "You didn't know anything."

"They didn't know that," Shawn says. "Anyway, that's not important."

"What is then? Why are we here?" Gus asks.

Shawn scans his shelves, before grabbing up a small Knight Rider KITT replica, and starting out of the room. "This is why we're here!"

"KITT?" Gus asks incredulously, following him out. "How much pain medication are you on?"

"Not enough," Shawn says, "but if you're implying that I'm less than my usual brilliant self, I can assure you that's not the case."

"No, I'd say you're definitely your usual self," Gus complains.

Shawn takes the steps slowly, not waiting for Gus to help, and puts his hand against the wall when he gets dizzy about three steps from the bottom. He can feel himself starting to fall forward and his eyes slip shut, and then someone's grabbing his shirt and helping him down the last steps before he can fall.

Shawn opens his eyes, and then wishes he hadn't. "Uh, hi, Dad," he says.

"What the hell are you doing here, Shawn? I left you sleeping at the hospital," Henry snaps.

"Well, I guess that's why I'll always be a little better than you," Shawn says wryly. "I was faking."

Henry looks up the steps and glares at Gus. "You're supposed to be the one with sense, Gus," he snaps.

"Hey, Gus didn't have anything to do with it," Shawn protests. "I checked myself out. Turns out, you're allowed to do that when you're a grown up."

"Yeah?" Henry demands. "Then how'd you manage it?"

"Oh, that's a good one, Dad, you should go on Leno," Shawn says.

"You're going back to the hospital, now, Shawn," Henry snaps.

"No, I'm going to the police station," Shawn corrects.

Henry laughs. "No, you're not," he says.

"You really think I won't find a way to get there on my own if you try to stop me?" Shawn asks. "I managed to get all the way to Australia when I was only nine."

"God damn it, Shawn," Henry snaps.

"I'll take that as a conciliation, if not a graceful one," Shawn says. "I promise I'll call you to let you know how it all works out. Gus! To the Psych-mobile."

"Hold on," Henry snaps. "If you're going to do this, then you're going with me."

"But--" Shawn starts.

"And then you're going to come back here and you're going to stay with me until you heal up," Henry says. "Or I'm taking you back to the hospital right now, even if I have to have you committed."

"You'd need cause!" Shawn protests.

"Trust me, I've got plenty," Henry snaps. "Don't think I didn't tape that news segment of you shouting about Moo Goo Gai Pan, and I've got a dozen others just like it."

Shawn frowns. "Fine, you can come, but one, I hope you know that's creepy, and two, there are rules; no interrupting, no questions, no mocking. And this is the most important one--no giving away the ending."

"I don't know the ending," Henry snaps. "Because the case has already been solved. The bad guys are all locked up and they've gone to pick up Prost."

"That's only half the case," Shawn protests, gesturing with KITT. "You're just going to have to wait and see with everyone else."

Henry nods at the toy car. "What's that for? A prop for one of your little psychic episodes?" he demands.

"Did you already forget the no mocking rule? Do we need to go over them all again?" Shawn asks.

"I never agreed to your rules, Shawn," Henry says.

Shawn sighs. "Whatever. Are we going to take your truck?"

"What do you think, Shawn?" Henry demands. "My truck is still at the airfield. Jack stole it."

Shawn's eyes widened. "Oh, right. Yeah. Um. About that--"

Henry pauses, watching his son suspiciously. "Shawn?"

"I-may-have-given-him-the-keys," Shawn says quickly.

"Shawn!" Henry yells, biting his lip before he can see any more when he sees Shawn go a little pale. "Don't think we're not going to talk about this."

"It's not even my fault," Shawn says. "I had a date. Uncle Jack was cramping my style. I had to get rid of him somehow."

"Later, Shawn," Henry demands. "You're not up for one of our discussions right now."

Shawn's just about to protest when he realizes it would be kind of stupid to argue for his right to be yelled at, and he nods instead. "The Psych-mobile it is, then."

"Stop calling my car that," Gus says.

"You know you like it," Shawn tells him, and Gus would have snapped back at him if he hadn't seen Henry reach out to grab Shawn's arm to steady him when he stumbles.

Gus decides to let this one go.

- - - - -

"Okay, we're here," Henry says. "Why are we here, Shawn?"

Shawn scans the police station. He sees a man getting fingerprinted. Short, with glasses, and a two thousand dollar suit. "There's Prost," he says.

Juliet comes running up to him. "Shawn! Shawn, are you okay?" she asks. She looks like she's using all her self-restraint not to leap over and hug him, and Shawn grins.

"I'm fine, Jules," he says. "How are things here?"

"Good," she says. "The two mercenaries that grabbed you are going to testify against Prost. He's going to go away for a long time."

"That's him, huh?" he asks, nodding over at the man.

Juliet nods. "Yes. We got him in the airport terminal."

"Not very impressive," Shawn says disappointedly. "I was expecting like one of those really big curly mustaches, or maybe really dark bushy eyebrows. A fedora."

"An eye patch?" Gus suggests.

Shawn points at him and nods. "Or an eye patch," he agrees. "Maybe a peg leg."

"He's not Bouchard, Shawn," Gus says.

"The eye patch was your idea," Shawn says defensively. "I was only going with the theme."

"You don't have to be a pirate to have an eye patch," Gus argues.

"But you have to be a pirate to have a peg leg?" Shawn asks. "Since when? I'll have you know I used to know a very nice insurance salesman who had a peg leg. His name was Clarence and he led a perfectly respectable life, except for the part about him being an insurance salesman. But the peg leg had absolutely nothing to do with that."

"Guys," Juliet interrupts. "Let's focus. I'm sorry that you're disappointed, but I assure, that is him. Now are you going to tell me what you're doing here? The case is over, and you should be in the hospital."

"Yeah, like we haven't tried telling him that," Henry mutters.

Shawn ignores him. "The case isn't over yet; you may have caught the thief," Shawn says, "but what about what was stolen?"

Juliet frowns. "Shawn, that would be great, but we really--"

Shawn ignores her, and hands Gus KITT.

"Wait, is this--?" Gus starts.

Shawn nods. "Yep," he says.

He frowns. "Why--?"

"You'll see," Shawn says, and then looks around the precinct until he spots Lassiter. "Lassie! Hey, where's Jack?"

Shawn goes still when Lassiter meets his eyes, looking very unhappy. He takes a step back into his father as the detective makes a beeline for him. Henry rolls his eyes, but reaches out to steady him.

"What the hell are you doing here, Spencer?" Lassiter demands.

"What I usually do here," Shawn says, with only about half of his usual bravado. "Solving a case."

"Excuse us for a moment," Lassiter says, shooting a wide fake grin at the others before leading Shawn away, a lot more gently than he usually would.

He waits until they're alone in the hallway before crossing his arms and staring the other man down. "I left you at the hospital," he says.

"I left the hospital after you left," Shawn says.

"Spencer--"

"What? I thought we were stating the obvious," Shawn says.

"You said you were going to stay there," Lassiter snaps.

"No, I said I wasn't going to go after Prost," Shawn says. "Although after seeing him, I'm fairly confident I could take him even in my injured state. I think even Gus could take him."

"You need to be resting," Lassiter says. "You can make things worse on yourself by doing too much too soon."

Shawn nods. "I know, and I'll rest, I will, but Lassie, please," he says, "this is important. I can't explain exactly why."

"You look like you're about to fall over," Lassiter hisses. "You need to be in bed."

Shawn goes from serious to teasing in two seconds flat, and gives him a full-blown grin. "Well--"

"A hospital bed," Lassiter says quickly. "So don't start."

"This won't take long," Shawn insists. "I just have to unravel a twenty-year old mystery and recover a million dollar stolen item. It'll take me ten minutes, tops."

Lassiter tiredly pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ten minutes?" he says.

Shawn nods. "Yep."

"Okay," Lassiter says, and looks at his watch. "Go."

"What?" Shawn asks. "No, everyone has to be here for this. Go round up the others. And find Jack. He needs to be there. It's his case too."

Lassiter sighs with resignation. "Jack's in interrogation room two. I'll bring everyone there."

Shawn nods, and when Lassiter heads back he goes to the interrogation room. Jack looks up when he enters and breaks into a grin, jumping to his feet. "Shawnie!" he says. "Should you be out yet?"

Shawn gives a faint grin in return. "Are you kidding? No hospital can hold me."

Jack carefully hugs him, putting a hand at the back of his neck and being sure not to put any pressure on his left side. "You okay, really?" he asks, pulling back.

Shawn nods. "Yeah, it's fine," he says. "Everything's going to work out, Jack. Trust me."

The door opens again, and Henry and Gus come in, followed by Lassiter, Vick, and Juliet. "Mr. Spencer," Vick says. "While we're all very glad that you're feeling so much better, we're a little confused about why you aren't still in the hospital."

"It's because he's a moron," Henry says helpfully.

Shawn closes his eyes and brings his right hand to his temple. "No, it's not that I'm a moron, it's that I just solved this case," he says, and lowers his hand. "I know what was stolen."

Lassiter frowns. "Even if you figured out what it was, this all went down twenty years ago, how are we supposed to find it?"

"Oh, ye of little faith," Shawn says, leaning forward to grip the table. He tries to make it look like it was a psychic episode, but Henry and Lassiter both move closer in case they needed to help keep him on his feet.

Shawn takes a deep breath and pushes back off the table. "It was simple, really, once I had the whole picture. All this time, Prost thought that Jack was the one that stole from him, but he wasn't. I was."

Jack's eyes widen. "What?"

"I was there in Australia, and please keep in mind that this was back before my powers had fully formed, so of course, I didn't realize what was going on--" Shawn says. "You see a penny, you pick it up."

"What are you talking about, Shawn?" Juliet asks.

"It was a penny," Shawn says.

"What was a penny?" Lassiter demands.

"The stolen merchandise, that's what everyone's been looking for--a little copper penny. A proof 1930 penny, to be exact. Six of a kind. They never told Jack what it was, so he never knew he lost it, and I never realized that I found it." Shawn moves a hand to his head again, closing his eyes. "It wasn't actually worth a million dollars twenty years ago, but Cramer had over-insured it because he knew that it was a very good investment, and he was right. It's worth over a million dollars by now."

"Wait, it was a penny? And you had it? You found it?" Lassiter asks in disbelief. "What happened to it?"

"Gus?" Shawn says, turning towards his friend.

Gus obediently holds out the KITT model, and Shawn reaches out to pull the stopper out from the undercarriage. Pennies come raining down to scatter all across the table. Shawn gives them a once over and then points one out. "There," he says.

Shawn watches as Lassiter carefully picks it up.

"I thought Jack had left it for me to find," Shawn says. "I saved every penny he ever gave me."

Jack looks shocked. "You've had this, all these years?" he asks.

"Yeah. Just think, my father always told me I didn't know how to save money," Shawn says. "And here I've had a million dollars in my piggy bank all the time."

- - - - -

The others take the penny and leave, talking about the discovery excitedly. Lassiter and his father seemed reluctant to go, but Shawn nods towards the exit and they leave him alone with Jack. Shawn shuts the door to the room and leans back against the wall.

Jack glances over at him, and lets out a kind of disbelievingly laugh. "I can't believe it's been right there all along," he says. "All these years that I've been looking--and it was right there."

"I think you're missing the point," Shawn says quietly.

Jack just shakes his head. "We could have split it fifty fifty," he says. "Christ, kid, what were you thinking handing that over?"

Shawn looks at the floor. "That belongs to someone, you know that right? It was stolen. It doesn't belong to me, and it doesn't belong to you, it never did."

"No, it never did," Jack says. "But it could have."

Shawn sighs and looks back up. "You know I brought some of the gold to Red Robin," he says. "I was planning to give it to you, but you never showed up."

"Shawn--"

"But you know what, Jack? Maybe it's better this way, maybe it's better you didn't come," he says. "I don't think having it is going to make the difference you think it will."

"Money always makes a difference," Jack says.

Shawn bites his lip. "You should probably get out of town again, lay low for awhile."

"I'd love to," Jack says. "I'm kind of in jail."

"Don't worry, the spirits are telling me that it won't last," Shawn says. "I just have one question. Would you really have traded yourself for me?"

"In a heartbeat," Jack says. "I never wanted you to get hurt. Even if you don't believe anything else, you have to believe that."

Shawn nods. "Yeah, I do," he says, and reaches for the door. "I hope that some day you find what you're looking for."

"Hey, kid," Jack calls. "Catch."

Shawn turns back around, and snatches a penny out of the air.

"It's 1946, the first year they started using tin since 1942," Jack says. "It's not worth much."

Shawn grins, sticking the penny in his pocket. "That all depends on how you measure it, Uncle Jack," he says.

- - - - -

Lassiter is leaning against the wall when he comes out of the room, arms crossed. "You could have just told us where to find the penny, Spencer," he says.

"But that wouldn't have been anywhere near as dramatic," Shawn protests.

Lassiter shakes his head. "You're insane," he says.

"Impassioned," Shawn counters.

"Idiotic," Lassiter says, and steps closer, backing Shawn up until he hits the wall.

Shawn grins at him widely. "Idealistic," he says.

"Impertinent," Lassiter snaps.

"Intelligent, interesting, insouciant, insightful, intriguing, intrepid, intuitive, impressive," Shawn says. "I'm best friends with Gus, I can do this all day."

Lassiter leans forward and kisses him to shut him up. Shawn grabs onto Lassiter's holster to steady himself and kisses back. "I'll make it up to you. I'm going to make you the best pineapple upside-down cake that there ever was," he promises, before kissing Lassiter again.

Lassiter jerks away abruptly at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and they turn to see Vick and Juliet standing at the end of the hall.

"Hey, Lassie?" Shawn whispers. "I think they know about us."

Vick rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. "I saw nothing," she says, before wandering off.

Juliet grins at them like she thinks they're the cutest couple ever, and Lassiter groans and leans his head against the wall beside Shawn's ear as she heads off with a pleased spring in her step that promises nothing good. "This is why I didn't want them to know," he whispers.

Shawn laughs. "They would have found out eventually," he says. "It's better this way. I don't know how well I can control myself around you."

"Who would have noticed the difference?" Lassiter asks. "You've been throwing yourself at me since we met."

Shawn grins. "Way I remember it, you're the one that swept me off my feet."

"Shawn," Henry snaps, coming around the corner with Gus. "We're leaving. You promised."

Shawn frowns. "I didn't promise, exactly--"

"Shawn!" he shouts.

"I'm coming," Shawn says quickly, before turning back to Lassiter. "I'm going to stay with my dad for a couple of days. I'd get out of it, but he threatened to have me committed."

Lassiter grins slightly. "I have to wrap things up here," he says. "Do you think it would be okay if I came by later?"

"No," Henry snaps. "Now, Shawn."

Shawn places a hand on the back of Lassiter's neck to pull him closer. "There's a key hidden under the welcome mat," he whispers, before pushing away from the wall to follow his father and Gus out.

Henry waits until Shawn reaches him and then takes his arm to gently lead him to the doors.

"Hey, guys, wait," Juliet calls, running after them. "Did you know that there was a reward for the penny?"

"What?" Shawn asks.

"Yeah, I just spoke to Cramer, he's really excited to have his penny back. He wants to give you $30,000.00 Australian dollars. That's what? Still a lot right?" Juliet looks thoughtful. "Or is it like Yen?"

"That's like $20,000.00 dollars US," Gus says.

Shawn turns to his friend in disbelief. "Do I even want to know why you know that?" he asks.

"I like to keep up on the current exchange rates," Gus says defensively. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, except you've never been out of California," Shawn says.

"I've been to Mexico, twice, Shawn," Gus snaps.

"Well, I stand corrected, obviously your knowledge of the Australian exchange rate is entirely relevant," Shawn says.

Henry moves in front of him. "Wait, so this guy's just going to give Shawn all this money?" He gives her the same look of frustration he'd given the cashier when Shawn was the 1,000,000 customer in line at the super-market.

Juliet nods. "The reward has been offered for the last twenty years," she says. "He says the penny is more than worth it."

"Huh," Shawn says. "I guess it was good luck after all."

- - - - -

When Shawn gets the twenty thousand dollar reward from Cramer, he splits it with Gus, Lassiter and his father.

Gus puts his in his saving account. Henry buys a new boat. Lassiter puts a down payment on a house that's close enough to his father's place for Shawn to make foreboding prophetic statements having to do with the show Everybody Loves Raymond, and how if the Barones have taught them anything it's that it's a very very bad idea to be that close to the in-laws, but Lassiter ignores him and Shawn is secretly grateful when he does.

Shawn uses his own cut to bail out Uncle Jack. Jack doesn't show up in court, so he doesn't get it back.

But Shawn had been expecting that.

1987

"I can't believe you ran away to Australia! My parents said if I ever did anything like that I would be grounded until I was thirty," Gus says. "Did you at least find some treasure?"

Shawn pulls out a penny and shows it to Gus. "It's an Australian coin," he says. "From 1930, Gus!"

"A penny?" he says incredulously. "This isn't treasure! This is hardly worth being grounded until you're thirty."

"Dad only grounded me for two months, and Mom's pretty sure she can talk him down to one," Shawn tells him. He tosses the penny up and catches it, before sticking it in his back pocket. "There were mitigating circumstances. I didn't realize that I was going to Australia, so this isn't really a leaving-the-country offence. It's more just stowing away with intent to cross state-lines, and that time I tried to hitchhike to Reno so I could go to the Circus Circus I only got grounded for two weeks."

"You only made it three blocks that time before your dad's partner picked you up, so it was hardly the same," Gus says. "Anyway, one month, two months, twenty-one years, it doesn't matter, it's still not worth it."

"You're wrong, Gus," Shawn says with a grin, "it was totally worth it."

The End