A.N: I'm not really sure about how I feel about this but the idea would not leave my head. It's kinda sad, and there are parts where they're all OOC. I'm sorry, I tried, and that is the reason I'm not sure how I feel about this. Please though read on. (You can skip the disclaimer, though.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych, nor The Last Goodnight's song Pictures of You, whether it made the plot bunnies attack me, or not.


"Pictures of you, pictures of me
Hung upon your wall for the world to see
Pictures of you, pictures of me
Remind us all of what we used to be"
-Pictures of You, The Last Goodnight

Walking into the familiar apartment, Shawn Spencer felt his shoulders sag and if it weren't for the two men trying to walk behind him he would have just collapsed, again, in a heap of pain and tears.

It had only happened last night and this was the job that they had been given, to get the things out of her apartment for Them. They hadn't wanted to take a long trip for a few days of work. Just a few years ago, They would have been here as soon as possible, Shawn thinks sitting a few of the boxes down where She used to eat dinner.

Unfolding the one on the top of the stack Shawn looks around, taking the complete emptiness of the place in. It isn't that there's no furniture there because there is. The living room is just as simply beautiful as ever, but it's as though the pieces of furniture know their owner is gone. The three of them were given permission to keep any of said furniture, seeing as it would be hard, and pointless for Them to keep it. The men weren't sure if they were going to take any of it, or just sell all of it. If they did sell it they were starting a fund for the families of fallen comrades.

Shawn doesn't know where to start, and he looks to Gus and Lassiter for any clue. Lassiter has walked into the kitchen starting to fold plates, cups, and bowls into the old newspaper he had brought along with his share of the boxes. Gus goes over to help, and the two of them start to silently work their way around the kitchen.

Gus can feel his hurt friend's eyes on his back and he turns saying, "Linens."

Shawn yesterday would have chastised his friend for saying the word 'linens' but instead he nods his head and watches him return to the dish in his hand, before stalking to where he knows the sheets and towels are kept.

He passes her open bedroom door, and slams it shut loudly before he has the chance to register anything inside. This was not how he wanted to remember her room, because this was not how he was supposed to see her room for the first time.

From his place in the hall he hears glass hitting the floor and shattering, before "Spencer!"

From the same place he can also hear Gus stopping the detective from continuing. "It was just a plate."

"It was her plate."

Peeking around the corner so that he could see them, Shawn could see that Lassiter's shoulders were sunk, and that he was hunched over, perceptibly trying not to get upset. Shaking his head, Shawn took the two steps towards the closet holding the towels and sheets. This tragedy was affecting them all, but it was affecting Lassiter, and Henry, making the grief stronger since two men that were so strong had been broken.

After opening the door, it took him almost two minutes to have filled the box with towels, sheets and, pillowcases. He had only paused because his box was full. Walking to grab another box, he notices that Gus and Lassiter haven't done much. Noting that there's no glass on the floor, their time was spent picking up the shards.

Folding the second box open, he sits the box on the ground, and the pieces of fabric inside of it. He's not sure how long this is going to take but he knows that soon he won't be able to breathe here. He is also sure that he's not going to be able to breathe anywhere else either. Grieving is a tough process and Shawn detests every instant of it.

Things continue this same way for a few hours. They get her entire kitchen, and most of the living room packed. Surprisingly they've all found a few objects that they've decided to take home. It's not anything terribly valuable, but it's things that will remind them of her.

It finally comes to the time that they're starting to pack the pictures on the wall of her hallway. The wall isn't just a few pictures in a row on the wall, but it is at least fifty snapshots, most of which had come since she had become friends with the three men, who had agreed to save this wall (and the bedroom) for last.

As they look at them they're thrust into the past. There's Shawn and Gus when they were bodyguards and, them again when they were going out for American Duos. Looking nearby it's a picture of Lassiter and Juliet pulling their best Mission Impossible poses. Glancing near the top there's a pair that you wouldn't expect. It's Lassiter and Gus before their excursion into tap dancing together (There is a picture of Lassiter on stage with those little kids too.).

In the exact middle of the collage is one of the newest pictures. It is of Lassiter, Shawn, and Gus, Chief Vick, Henry, and Buzz. She's in there too, literally crammed in between Shawn and Lassiter. It had been taken almost exactly a month ago. It was the day that they had caught Yin.

She had had Declan take the picture. It had surprised Shawn that the oddly named man hadn't had a problem watching his occasional date being crushed into the man who was quite obviously, to the psychologist anyway, in love with her. In the end it had been because he was planning on telling her that he was moving overseas, and not interested in a long distance relationship.

Juliet hadn't been upset and she had gone out to celebrate and eat with Lassiter, his treat. Surprisingly though, a few minutes after walking into the restaurant, Gus, Shawn and Henry had also came in. The detectives invited them to join them, only Lassie wasn't paying for their food, and or alcohol. That night had been spent laughing, drinking and, joking around. It wasn't until almost two in the morning that the group decided to head out. It was a night the four men cherished whether they would admit it or not.

The other newest picture had been taken two days ago. It was a picture of Juliet and Shawn. It had been candidly taken by Gus right after the two's first kiss ever, standing in the SBPD. It was after hours so only Gus, Shawn and Juliet, and Lassiter had been in the entire building. Lassiter had even smiled for an instant before telling the two of them to make out on their own time.

After leaving the station Gus had gone straight out to buy a blown up version of the picture and a picture frame from Wal-Mart. Before the night was over she had a new picture on her wall and a date for the next night, a date for last night.

Shawn had been looking forward to the date, even going so far as to visit her about lunchtime, bringing her food. He had greeted her with a kiss that had been answered by a round of cat-calls from around the station. After handing her the bag, he walked away telling her he was looking forward to their date tonight.

It was the last time Shawn would see her smile.

Later that day while he was pacing around the Psych office trying to get some of his nervous energy out, Gus had stumbled into the building, Lassiter following slowly behind him. Gus had rushed to his desk, hoping to sit down in his chair, though instead he missed and fell onto the floor, starting to cry.

"Buddy, did you seriously hurt yourself? " Shawn was peeking over the top of the desk as his friend. After a few seconds with no response, he had turned to look at the detective. "And why are you here? Do we have a case?"

Shawn had only finished his statement because it felt like the thing to do. As soon as he had looked in the older man's eyes he had seen something was wrong.

Lassiter broke the news. He was trying to do it like you would a Band-Aid, quick so that the pain came easier. It obviously didn't work. Shawn's knees gave way and he fell to the ground, tears spilling from his eyes without a thought as to stopping them. He felt as though he had been the one to get shot this time, only the pain wasn't just in his shoulder this time, it was everywhere. He felt as though he had stepped into a volcano, the lava was eating him alive.

A minute or two after hitting the ground, Shawn felt hands grab him and pull him close. He knew that it was Gus, who had crawled around the desk to him and was holding him, as only a friend could and would.

As Gus stroked Shawn's hair and tried to quiet the man's loud sobs, he himself continued to cry. Taking a moment to look at Lassiter, Gus realized that he was standing no longer. He had slid down the wall and was crying too, just quieter than Shawn. And Gus was sure that was the reason more tears streaked down his dark face.

More than an hour passed after that before any of them moved, and they had only done so because Henry had walked into the room. The old man looked at his son broken on the floor, being held by his best friend, and felt his own tears threatening to be shown. Walking further in he saw Lassiter, red eyed and tear streaked, nodding he passed the detective showing that his weakness would be confined to this instance, and this room.

As Henry sat down, his son looked at him, causing fresh tears to slide down both of their faces. Shawn moved from Gus, over to his father who tried his best to comfort him. Gus also moved next to Henry, his second father. As much as Gus can remember hating Mr. Spencer growing up, he also knew that there were very few other people that would have done as much for him as he had, even after Shawn had run away.

Things had continued this way until, they had all fallen asleep. When they woke up they got a call from Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara asking them for help. The three men who had been close to Juliet, had all went home to shower, and get boxes deciding to meet back in a few hours, while Henry had gone to the grocery, picking up things that would make Shawn and Gus's stay at his house more comfortable. Even after all these years when something bad happened they stayed in the familiar home.

And presently the men they stood looking at the pictures hanging on the wall in Juliet's hallway.

After a moment of standing there Shawn couldn't take it any longer, and swung his arm, breaking the glass on the picture of Jules, and himself. His knuckles got scraped up, the glass had cut them, and they were most likely going to scar. There would forever be a mark physically on him of her death.

As he fell backwards against the opposite wall, he noted that his blood had scarred the otherwise perfect picture. It sickened him that it was only on her, leaving him still perfect in the black and white photo.

Shawn then threw open the door to her room, and made it to her bed before collapsing in a pile of tears once again. Lassiter and Gus weren't sure of what to do. Should they stand here, and let him fall to pieces? Or should they try to stop his hand from bleeding onto the sheets that only two nights ago she had slept on. Moments later, they had made a decision.

Shutting the door, they walked away from the room, silent tears streaming down both of their faces. Everyone grieves in their own way; this was a step Shawn needed to take. And it was one he must deal with alone.