I owe my soul to BringOnTheRain, Sammy, Tazmy and Mia for the beta-ing and/or ideas for bits where this blasted fic refused to play nice :] Thanks guys xD (Originally posted over on ... I decided it should come on here too, simply because I can do that :D)
It was absolute chaos. Shawn had been enjoying the attention he was receiving... before everything had gone completely wrong. He was on high alert after spending the better part of the last three days working on his case he'd begged to be a part of. Well, strictly speaking it was Lassie's case, but he'd get over it sooner or later.
Shawn, Lassiter, Jules, Buzz and an original client of Psych were congregated outside the office, attracting a rather large crowd.
"And so, you were the one who killed Sophie LeRamos; it was all an act!" he shouted excitedly. He stopped his wild pace, and placed his finger puppet to his head. He had been "conversing" with the finger puppet for the duration of the case, receiving various clues from the small, knit being. Annoyed with Shawn's choice of a partner in the case, Gus had decided to attend a pharmaceuticals conference in Santa Monica for the remainder of the week. Though used to Shawn's antics, he really wanted to go to Santa Monica anyway as a new drug was being released and he'd managed to shake off Shawn's incessant whining for him to stay.
"But, Gus... it's Psych!" Shawn had griped, raising up the finger puppet to Gus' eye level, making it droop as if sad, "I need you. We need you."
Gus rolled his eyes, "Don't guilt trip me with a finger puppet Shawn. Besides, if I go to Santa Monica and increase my sales by 8.3% then..."
Shawn's head dropped, "But dude, it's so boring..." he said with exasperation. Gus ignored him and carried on.
"If I increase my sales, that means more money. More money means less time at work, meaning more time at Psych. Right?"
Shawn took in a breath ready to argue, then paused, holding it in. He finally released it in a sigh, and Gus bit back a grin as he realised he'd gotten through to his friend, "Fine then. Puppy and I will solve this case on our own."
Gus raised an eyebrow, "Puppy, Shawn?"
Shawn looked at him in vexation, "Dude, the puppet. It's short for puppet. It was that or Fingers McPuppet which was a bit... er... unsuitable," Shawn looked disgusted as if it were Gus who had come up with the name, "Honestly, Gus, it's a children's toy. Children! With all their hopes and dreams and..."
"But puppies are also..." Gus sighed with frustration, "You know what? Whatever Shawn. I'm going."
"Oh, no... he couldn't possib- I see... Well..."
As Shawn continued to murmur to his puppet, Jules leaned in eagerly. She and Lassiter had been called in by Shawn to witness his big reveal, and so far she was intrigued. Lassiter simply looked bored.
"Of course, coming here would just throw the police off, right? It was perfect!"
Barry was a middle aged man, hardly one to be a suspect of murder with his suit, greying hair and rouge cheeks. He seemed flustered and with good reason.
"You're crazy!" the man yelled, reaching for his pocket. A flash of silver caught Lassiter's eye.
It was too late. The next thing anyone knew, Barry was holding a gun at arm's length, surprisingly steady for his trembling hands. Lassiter, Buzz and Juliet quickly pulled out their firearms and aimed them at his back, whilst Barry's weapon remained marked on Shawn.
Any of Shawn's previous enthusiasm left him, and as he backed away a little, his arms raised defensively.
"Look," he said, eying the gun with trepidation, "Some of Santa Barbara's finest are here- You shoot me, they shoot you."
While Shawn talked, he slowly walked around so he was closer to Lassiter. He kept a wary eye on the gun, which remained trained on him. Shawn could see that Barry was nervous, making him twice as dangerous as a gun wielding, yet composed, maniac. "You don't want to do this." Shawn said, almost cockily, "It'll only make things worse." He held his hand out for the gun.
Barry looked at Shawn hopelessly, "But I didn't mean to. I didn't... I couldn't... she knew. She was going to tell everyone... my wife would have left me!"
Shawn looked at him calmly, "Well, you think shooting me is going to make it any better?"
"I don't know what to think anymore..."
"You're not a killer, Barry," Shawn said, looking him in the eye, "I know you're not. You know you're not. Come on... just give me the gun."
Barry looked at his shaking gun hand and lowered it, about to hand it to Shawn. The officers all held their breath as it seemed the danger had passed as Shawn reached for the weapon. Suddenly, a car driving down the road backfired, startling Barry. He involuntarily raised his gun and squeezed the trigger in panic. Lassiter sprang into action and firing his weapon immediately.
Barry staggered backwards with the impact of the shot and slumped back against the wall. McNabb jumped forward, pressing a knee down on Barry's back, trapping him against the pavement.
Meanwhile, Shawn jerked back a few steps with the force of Barry's bullet, a look of complete shock replacing the look of panic he'd adorned earlier. Everything around him seemed to happen unrealistically expeditious, like old movies where the picture was played too fast and out of sync with sound effects.
Shawn raised a shaking hand to his chest, where a growing stain of crimson was spreading like a spider's web. He lifted the now cerise hand up to his eyes and was frowning at it, looking slightly confused, before his legs started to crumple beneath him. Lassiter cursed and holstered his weapon whilst Juliet stared at the psychic in horror. The head detective sprang forward, attempting to catch the falling man. Unfortunately, he missed him by millimetres, and simply followed Shawn to the ground.
"Damn it, Spencer," he growled, pulling him more upright. Lassiter leaned his head against his collar bone so he could reach the fake psychic's chest more easily. He cupped a hand over the wound.
Shawn felt strangely calm, barely feeling the pain of the gunshot wound or the pressure Lassie was applying to it.
"Yes, very observant," Lassiter muttered sarcastically before shouting to no one in particular, "Somebody call a damn ambulance!"
All Shawn could think about was the absurdity of this request. – Surely somebody would have called one by now, but then again, it seemed as though everyone was in a panic. At this rate he would soon be the most composed person within a hundred yards and he was the one with a bullet in his chest other than Barry, who nobody seemed to care about.
"Shawn?" Juliet asked, kneeling down in front of the fake psychic.
"J-Jules?" When did she get here? Suddenly, her warm blue eyes were boring into his and one hand was touching his cheek. Through his disorientation, Shawn had a sudden realization.
. He was totally a wounded hero. Well, maybe not a hero as one would define, but still wounded nonetheless. However, a sudden coughing fit brought up a substantial amount of blood and wiped away any hope of some sympathy lip lock… not that he thought Jules would be so inclined.
"Oh my God…"
Why was everyone panicking so much? He'd be fine. After all, Lassie and Jules were here. There didn't seem to be as much pain as he thought there would be, not that he'd ever imagined being shot, but he had enough experience around guns to know it was excruciating. Maybe it was the adrenaline rushing through his body. Juliet's hand had left his cheek, slowly made its way to his chest, and joined Lassiter's hand on his chest, adding more pressure.
Therewas the pain.
Shawn gasped, arching his neck over Lassiter's shoulders, "Stop… please?" It seemed too hard to form words. His mouth seemed numb. Juliet had her other hand resting on his leg, but Shawn wished she would place it on his cheek; he missed the warmth it had brought to his face.
Shawn was growing colder and blackness started to cloud at the edges of his vision.
"Shawn, stay awake," Juliet pleaded, her voice crackling slightly as she spoke. The hand from his leg was touching his cheek again, but the hand on his chest seemed to push down harder as she tensed. Shawn's head had lolled back to its original position, though it was stooped lower than before. He couldn't seem to muster the energy to keep it upright anymore. And he still couldn't find it in him to worry too much about the fact he was dying. Dying…
He wanted to tell Juliet he was fine. He was fine. Or at least, he would be fine. He started to feel increasingly light-headed before finally succumbing completely to the darkness that beckoned him, managing one final thought before fading into unconsciousness.
He was fine. After all Lassie and Jules were here...right?
Ok... sooo? Good, bad? Burn at the stake? The ending can be as you want... I'm not sure myself, but I quite like to think that Shawn does survive this particular incident...