Disclaimer: I own no rights to Psych or the characters in it, but I definitely have the right to play with them as long as I don't get any money from it (and I don't).

AN: It used to go by the name "Four Painful Hits, One Day", but I polished the story a bit, changed the title and this is the result


When in the middle of the night I was woken from a very pleasant dream involving pineapples and Very-Close-Talking I could never have guessed I would probably remember it as the worst day ever for a very long time. There actually was nothing to suggest that when I next returned home I would sit in my living room, tucked in my fluffy pink blanket, crying and eating yogurt. Actually in spite of the very late or more precisely extremely early start my day took it started fairly well. I even found the watch I thought I had lost the previous week. Still, I was really exhausted, so after spending the next twenty minutes alone in a car with Carlton singing praises to every little, unimportant detail of his car I was a tiny bit grumpy when we reached Gus. I mean seriously, I have brothers, I have listened to the joy engines bring to a male's heart, but why would I care how perfectly his new key chain fits in his hand.

My irritation vanished as soon as I saw the worried look on Guster's face, he was always annoyed and sometimes too easily panicked on crime scenes, but this desperate look in his eyes was frightening if for no other reason than his attempt to mask it, it made me swallow any comments I might have otherwise made about his unorthodox attire. My unease grew once he explained that Shawn seemed to be missing. Then of course Gus received the first puzzling message, that made little sense and Lassiter's already sizable agitation only grew, at least until he got distracted by something on the ground a few feet in front of us.

The second message first seemed just as unclear and read – 'Binshot not lol', left both me and Shawn's best friend confused. I tried to decode it listening as Gus repeated the same abstruse sentence over and over again, its meaning stubbornly staying on the tip of my tongue. I came to the realization maybe a millisecond before Gus, when Carlton said something about blood. I felt like the oxygen had been forced out of me, and it was unwilling to return to my lungs, because that was the minute my day went from little out of the norm to the nightmare it became. Shawn had been shot.

And everything went downhill from there when I opened the door leading inside Shawn's apartment. Its funny but I was kind of sure that when I was finally there the owner of this dry cleaner's apartment would be there with me, not the owner's best friend. It felt like an intrusion to see this place without Shawn being present and spilling inappropriate and lame jokes about his bachelor pad not being clean, but completely dry. I really couldn't stop myself from snapping when Gus started looking through Shawn's clothes, but really, he wasn't dead. A scared part of me couldn't help to add 'yet' to that sentence.

When I saw that pink toothbrush so innocently placed besides a similar blue one I received a stab for my heart, which had no connection to learning about Shawn being in danger and everything to do with the flutter of pain I felt every time Shawn's girlfriend was mentioned. I honestly hadn't expected to see signs of Abigail lying around, and now that I had I really wanted to stay blissfully ignorant.

Thank God for small miracles, at least Gus was too busy dressing to really look at me when I asked about the state of Shawn's and his girlfriend's relationship. I seriously doubt my face was cool and unconcerned. I don't know why I felt so hurt after seeing Abigail's clothes scattered across the room, it's not like I had any right to feel that way. But I was, and in spite of my growing concern for the one responsible for those emotions, a tiny little jealous part of my mind was really looking forward to leaving that apartment.

But the most painful part of my day came when the rest of Santa Barbara was enjoying a sunny afternoon. Hearing Shawn's voice, as shaky as it was over the phone made my breathing even out for the first time since he was kidnapped. And I knew he was giving me clues about his whereabouts when he spoke about looking back and wind chimes, but I was too relieved to actually try and decrypt them at that moment in time. Though Shawn telling me he loved me got my whole attention, it also warmed my chest for a second. I was really just a heartbeat away from admitting the same aloud, when he broke my heart for the second time that same year. This was much worse.

I think calling me Abigail, after what he had just said is the cruelest thing Shawn Spencer has ever done to me, it was as if the knife that had been poking me for months now was pushed right through with no other purpose than to see me bleed. And if I wasn't at the police station, in full view of Gus and my colleagues I would have broken in pieces right there. But it wasn't time for that yet, I still had some clues to retell to my partner, maybe he would understand them better than I did.

You would probably think that the last hit my day from hell received was at some point during the chase to catch the truck that carried Shawn, or the moment where he jumped on Lassiter's brand new car. But no, although those moments definitely increased my blood pressure, as a detective I am too prepared to deal with them. That came later at the hospital when Gus wanted to check on Shawn, who was shot full of anesthetics. He gave me his phone asking if I wouldn't mind going outside to call Abigail, it seemed no one had bothered to inform her about her boyfriend being hospitalized due to a gunshot wound. At that point I really hated Burton Guster.

In spite of that major part of me that didn't want to do anything of the sort, I smiled and assured him I would get right on it. It took me a full minute of staring at the phone before I actually called. The following conversation in which I was completely in the mode of a detective doing her job was completed in a hollow tone I barely recognized as my own. The fact that Abigail seemed to be so concerned and nice made it hurt worse. It was like scraping an open wound, and that knife was ruthlessly twisting more with every, slightly hysterical word passing her lips.

After I was finally able to hang up I practically sprinted back to Gus, so I could return his phone and leave. Shawn was in good hands, his best friend and his father were watching over him and his girlfriend would soon join them. So I really didn't need to be there, I was definitely not ready to face those all knowing hazel eyes yet either.

Metaphorically speaking my heart had received many brutal stabs today, no one could have blamed me if they knew I was currently crying my eyes out and eating a pineapple yogurt.


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