A/N: This is my first official fic for the wonderful show that is Psych. Please; be gentle. Hopefully the characters are in character, and this doesn't totally suck. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Summary: Post-"A Night with Mr. Yang". Shawn might be, possibly, having some problems. But, really; it's totally nothing.

Fine

For the first week and a half afterward, Shawn is completely fine. And at first, people asking him if he's okay doesn't bother him. Because he is. Really.

When the nightmares start, he's doing just super. It'll pass, and besides, these are nothing compared to the Great Recurring Charlie Brown Nightmare of '98. Gus can attest to that.

It's when he starts seeing her face in crowds that he thinks, fleetingly, about talking to someone. She's locked away, of course, and nobody really got hurt. Nobody was killed or maimed, anyway. But he can't shake the feeling...

As long as she's alive, he can't get rid of this persistent keening at the edge of his mind. Like alarm bells going off a mile down the road. The sound isn't always clear, but he knows it's there.

He breaks it off with Abigail after three more dates, and pretends he doesn't know that she knows what's wrong. In some strange way, it almost hurts to be close to another human being in that way, and he can't quite grasp the reasoning there. He doesn't want to be ruined by this, because it should be simple; cut and dried, loose ends tied up in a neat little bow.

Somehow, this feels like the one that got away. Which is insane, because there she is. Sitting behind a gray desk and glass wall in a partially enclosed booth, grinning up at him like the world is on fire just because he's near. He takes note that this is where she is; this is where she'll always be until the day she dies. He is expressionless as he turns back through the doorway almost immediately, and leaves.

He still flirts with Jules ('cause that's just who he is) but not as much as before. Not with the same intent, and not as charmingly honest as he's been in the past.

He takes all of his nervous energy, and piles it onto his work. Case after case is spent running around with Gus, cracking jokes and taking names. And for a split second sometimes, he can even forget Mr. Yang existed.

Until the nightmares come back. Then after the cycle of sleepless nights, there's the part where he thinks he sees her staring at him from the bench across the park. It's the same way things happened before, only this time he finds himself hyperventilating in the back seat of Lassiter's too-sensible, annoyingly maroon car. But it feels safe. He feels safe, for the first time in a while, and he doesn't really understand why.

When Carlton finds him there, laying face-up and staring at the ceiling, he's pissed at first.

Shawn thinks maybe it's the shaky way he calls the older man 'Lassi-face' that gives the detective pause. His voice is small, like he's shrunk in on himself and he's trying to hide.

Trying... Hell, he is hiding. In the back of Lassie's car.

And that's when he laughs. He laughs so hard he starts to cry, and Carlton sits awkwardly beside him, rubbing slow, warm circles on his back. It's suddenly just so damn funny, and everything is ridiculous in a way it's never been before, and it hurts.

When he's done, they sit there for ten full minutes in silence. Just breathing.

A mumbled "thanks" escapes Shawn's lips, receiving a brisk pat on the shoulder and a sweetly awkward smile in return.

A moment of silence, and then... "Don't suppose you could give me a ride home?"

"Get out of my car, Spencer."

"Alrighty then!" And he does, smiling, because Carly-town is back to his old grumpy, sarcastic self, which makes Shawn feel a little bit more like himself again, too.

Lassiter is the first to stop asking if he's okay.