WARNING: for domestic abuse and angsty themes.


Mizaru: See no evil.

Being a former detective, and forever a cop at heart, Henry was suspicious when he saw the bruises on his son's wrists.

It came as a complete surprise, when he realized Shawn had been dating someone for almost four months. The fact that it was another man didn't bother him so much, too used to Shawn's lifestyle, despite the mild unease that still came with the territory. When he asked his son to bring him over for dinner, he was sure Shawn rolled his eyes as he told him to stop being paranoid about every man he dated.

As Shawn reached over the table for another burger, the sleeve of his shirt road up his arm. Henry quickly reached over to take Shawn's hand in his own, then pulled the sleeve up higher. Gently, he turned his son's hand this way and that, examining the dark bruise that wrapped its way around the bony appendage.

He was given only a minute to study the abrasion, before Shawn snatched his hand back with an annoyed glare. "Jeez, personal space invasion Dad!"

Henry didn't bother replying to the comment. Instead, he leveled Shawn with a hard stare. "Where are those from?"

"Now you're asking about my sex life?" Shawn gave his dad a cheeky grin.

Henry blinked. "Your -- Your what?"

"What, you've never tried it? Bondage is all the rage in the bedroom now, dad."

"Shawn!" The grin turned into a laugh at the red that took over Henry's face.

He stopped asking Shawn about the occasional bruise he'd catch a glance of. And didn't mention the background check he got on his son's recent boyfriend.

000

Kikazaru: Hear no evil.

Being Shawn's best friend, Gus couldn't tell him that he wasn't exactly fond of his boyfriend.

He didn't like it when Mitchell called Shawn not even an hour after he'd come to the office. Or when Shawn would have to go into the next room, so he could pretend Gus didn't notice the screams. He really didn't like it when Shawn would leave after just a few hours and a hundred calls from Mitchell. And he sure as hell didn't like it when Shawn would call to cancel movie or dinner dates, and Gus could hear Mitchell yelling in the background.

Gus watched as Shawn slumped into his chair and threw his cellphone on his desk. He winced when Shawn picked up the purple stress buddy, knowing Shawn only used it after the worst fights. The eyes popped out wildly as he gave it a particularly vicious squeeze. Gus cleared his throat to try to get his friend's attention. When that didn't work, and the stress buddy gave another loud squeak, he took the rubber duck from his desk and tossed it at Shawn's head.

"Yeah Gus?" Shawn didn't even sound annoyed...just tired.

"Uh... Shawn, you'd -- you know... You'd tell me if stuff was going on, right?"

He got a jaw breaking smile in response. "Aww....Gussy! I knew your feminine side would come out sooner or later. You wanna go watch Oprah?"

"Shawn!"

"What? Oh, still in the denial phase?" His eyes grew wide as Shawn stood, then came over to plop himself in Gus' lap. "I think someone needs a hug."

"Shawn, the chair is tipping. Shawn, it's tipping! We're going down!"

Gus quit asking about the angry phone calls, after the third try got deterred much in the same way. But that didn't stop him from collecting so many battered spouse pamphlets, that the clinic nurses wouldn't stop eyeing him with pity.

000

Iwazaru: Speak no evil.

Being a private guy himself, Carlton wasn't going to interfere when he saw Shawn fighting with whom he assumed to be the new boyfriend Juliet kept talking about.

He watched curiously as a stocky man grabbed Shawn by the arm and pulled him back out of the station before the psychic could even make it to his desk. Normally, he'd be glad someone had gotten rid of the monkey masquerading as a man. But the paling in Shawn's face caught his notice. Following them seemed like a good idea, but when the stocky man pulled them to the side of the building, away from the front doors where people were coming and going, he started to wonder.

"What the fuck are you doing here again?" Stocky man sounded mad.

"Mitch, you can't just drag me out of the station like that. People are going to ask what's going on." Shawn sounded calm.

"You didn't answer my fucking question!" Stocky man--Mitch didn't like to be ignored.

He heard Shawn sigh. "I'm here to do my job Mitch."

"What's your job, to be a whore? You seemed pretty buddy-buddy with those guys. What, are you fucking the whole bullpen?" Shawn gasped and gagged on his air. Even though he couldn't see them from his hidden position, Carlton was pretty sure what Mitch was doing. Why he only stood there, he didn't know, but shock could be his excuse later.

"Mitch, stop. We're outside a police station!"

Shawn took a deep breath, and Carlton remembered to breath with him. "I want you home by five, got it?" Shawn must have nodded, because Mitch gave a quick "Good" then left the area. Carlton stared at the man in disbelief, as he passed by him unknowingly.

Silence, as he matched his breathing with Shawn's, before a quiet question. "You won't tell, right?" Carlton blinked in surprise and turned around the corner of the building he'd been hiding behind. Shawn was staring at him, absently massaging his neck. "Right Lassie?"

He swallowed hard. "Tell what?"

Shawn seemed to sag in relief. "Exactly."

Carlton left, with his brain buzzing, to go ask his partner what she knew about Mitch.

000

Shizaru: Do no evil.

Being an optimist, Shawn believed things would get better eventually.

When he met Mitchell, he thought he fell in love. He was handsome, quirky, funny, smart, confident, nice...everything. For the first time since he met Gus, Shawn found someone he wanted to hold on to. Wanted something from them besides a one night stand. It was almost ominous, this feeling he'd never had inside his mind before. Five months into his first real relationship, and Shawn wasn't sure what kind of love this was anymore.

I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry.

Shawn never realized it before, but words lose their meaning after being said so often. Soon, they became more like a repetitive motion, than a vow of passion. It's all okay as long you say you're sorry, right? But he got tired of the apologies.

Now, lying on his living room couch, Shawn felt his mind going numb. He looked over at Mitchell, unconscious next to the coffee table. The other man was bleeding pretty heavily, all over Shawn's nice cream carpet. Lifting his arm, Shawn stared at his remote control. A possible murder weapon, but he'd never been so thankful for television in his life.

They'd been having another 'altercation,' as Shawn had come to call them when he explained away the wounds. Mitchell had him on the couch, hands tight around his neck. As the oxygen rapidly left his mind, he'd blindly searched for the remote. After the short burst of adrenaline that allowed him to slam the corner of the hard object into Mitchell's temple, Shawn found he couldn't move. Movement really would have been helpful at the moment, to go call for an ambulance maybe, but he supposed you couldn't have everything in life.

It felt like Mitchell had broken something again...or a few somethings. Idly, he wondered if any of his neighbors had heard something through the thin walls this time.