Shhh, what's that!? Another one! Shassie incoming. The point of no return. Don't like it? Stop here and pretend everyone lives happily-ever-un-gay-after.

Detective Carlton Lassiter once again found himself slumped at his desk utterly exhausted. In front of him was the case file for the murder of Marcus Holt. He was sure he'd read it about five times already but somehow the words just weren't sticking in his brain.

Matthew Davies. That was the man Shawn had killed. Holt had staged his own death and killed all of his friends to make it more believable. But Davies had survived. The newspaper didn't even mention him. Shawn killed a man. Lassiter rested his head in his hands. He'd gone back to his house after leaving the beach. He had to get away from everything. Everyone. He'd managed to somehow get a couple of hours of restless sleep before he gave up and went to the station. His heart sped up when he caught sight of Guster's car in the lot but he forced himself to enter the station anyway. Turned out that the car had been there all night. Left there from when Carlton had taken the other man to the boardwalk to talk.

Coffee.

He sighed and stood up, deciding that coffee would make him feel more human. He drank it black and leaned his hip against the counter as he listened to the usual bustle of the station. Juliet hadn't arrived yet for which Carlton was very grateful. He'd completely forgotten that she'd left to get him food.

Shawn had his gun.

It wasn't the first time the thought crossed his mind but that didn't stop the sinking feeling he got anyway. Would Shawn bring it back? Would he have to see him? Did he want to see him? Carlton's whole world was turned inside out and upside-down. He'd tried to make sense out of what happened the other day but came up with nothing. He had to have been drugged. He was certain. So certain that this morning he'd slipped Woody a cup of his urine. The strange man had been all too happy to test it for him.

Aside from being painfully tired, Carlton felt no other ill-effects from the night before. There were a couple unexplained bruises but that was it. He let his eyes slide shut and put his forehead against the cabinets for a minute. The whole night had a dreamlike quality to it. He tried to focus on details but they slipped just out of his reach. He remembered the stone and the naked man. He remembered the broken Psych window and elbowing Shawn in the face. Everything else would come and go. A tide being pulled by a waxing moon.

"Hello, Detective!" McNabb's too cheerful voice pierced through his thoughts.

"Weren't you on duty over night?" Carlton ground out, refilling his mug.

"Yep!" Buzz answered back, shuffling some papers. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, sir."

Carlton turned slowly, on his last nerve with people trying to dote on him. He was a grown man for God's sake! Buzz seemed to catch his bad mood and backed off a bit. "Sorry, it's just..." The tall man paused and rubbed the back of his neck. Carlton felt the need to strangle Buzz rising to the surface. "You didn't look so good out on the beach last night. I'm not a big drinker myself, Francine wouldn't like that, but I know what it can do to you." He rushed the last bit out so fast that Carlton actually leaned in to try to catch it. He didn't answer. He was dumfounded. Buzz was there last night? Why would Buzz be there?

"I'm fine." Carlton finally said. "Thank you." He added on when the first bit came out a little too harsh. Buzz grinned, leaving Carlton to himself again. He stood for a few more minutes to avoid suspicion and then made his way over to the reports Buzz filed from the night before. He scanned them until he saw one about possible gunshots around the address of the Psych office. Buzz was brief in his description, only saying that it was a couple of teenagers setting off firecrackers on the beach. He sighed, realizing that the eager-to-please cop had fudged the papers. Great, more lawbreaking directly related to Carlton Lassiter.

He wanted to be at work. He needed a distraction but his head just wasn't with it. Carlton couldn't focus. He stepped to the Chief's office and gave a small knock.

"Come in." She said from the other end. He entered slowly, standing as straight as his back would allow.

"Chief, I'd like to request the day off."

"Alright, Detective." The Chief barely looked up from her papers. Carlton simply stood. That was it? No questions? Nothing?

"Chief" He began only to be cut off.

"Carlton, go home. Get some rest. Please. I was glad you went home yesterday but you need more time." She huffed, finally looking up from her papers and placing her palms down on the desk. "It's Friday. Take a long weekend." She suggested. "I don't want you fainting on another stake out."

"I did not faint." He reminded her, somehow feeling five years old in front of this woman. She gave him a look that spoke volumes about her patience.

"Yes, ma'am." He hung his head and skulked from the office. He probably looked like a kid who just got sent to bed without supper but he didn't care. His emotions were all over the place today. He'd wanted to go home. Why was he so upset now that he was? He'd always prided himself on his control. Sure, sometimes he let his anger get the best of him, especially when Spencer was involved but usually he was calm and collected. Now though, he had so many things raging within him. Anger, confusion, doubt and uncertainty were reigning high above all else.

He decided to make a last-minute stop at the grocery store. He was sure he didn't have any food in the house. Plus he needed to pick up some scotch. He was going to try to make a long weekend feel more like a short one.

When he pulled up to his house and saw Shawn Spencer sitting on his front step, he wasn't surprised. If anything he would've thought the other man might break in and be waiting for him there. He was being a little considerate today. A little.

Carlton practically stomped up the walk, hefting two brown bags and a smaller one with his precious alcohol in it. Shawn jumped up and stepped aside while he got his key into the lock. He briefly considered just shutting the door behind him but cast that aside. He needed to get to the bottom of everything. Including that bottle.

He heard Shawn shuffling behind him as he entered the kitchen but he still didn't throw the younger man a bone. Instead Carlton busied himself with putting away his groceries and then searching for a glass. His eyes caught the oven clock as he poured and he sighed. 9:00. Great, now he was an alcoholic.

He finished pouring and slid it down to Shawn. The other man studied it for just a second before throwing the entire glass back. THAT was a little surprising but Carlton felt a little better now about the day-drinking. He poured his own glass and refilled Shawn's.

"Why are you here?" He started off simple, figuring it would be easier to work his way up.

"I don't know." Shawn said back. His voice sounded scratchy. He took a moment to observe the younger man. Shawn was wearing the same jeans/hoodie combo as the night of the stake out. His fingers were comically covered in Power Ranger band aids and his upper lip had a small cut in it. His eyes still looked strange but Carlton couldn't figure out how. He flashed back to Shawn sitting up against the tree, his one eye milky-white and he shivered.

Shawn was watching him. Watching as his eyes flicked from one thing to another. The air was too damn thick in this house. Carlton downed his drink and poured another.

"What do you want from me?" He tried.

"I don't know." Shawn answered from behind his glass.

It was a stalemate and he didn't understand why. Carlton wanted answers and Shawn must have come to his house for a reason. And yet here they stood, speaking words but not really saying anything. Hell, Shawn was telling him more with his eyes than he was with his mouth. Carlton just didn't have the manual on how to read them. He felt the pleasant buzz of the scotch warming him and numbing his extremities. He had to remind himself that this was Shawn Spencer that he was with. The annoying brat who never stopped trying to butt his head into every case at the station. The same one whose flair for being dramatic had landed him in hot water so many times that Carlton had lost count. He seemed incredibly different now.

Shawn ran his pinky finger along the wet edge of his glass as it sat on the counter. Carlton swallowed and tried to ignore the sweat dampening his neck.

"Where is the man from last night?" This was a new one, more straightforward.

"He wasn't a man. Not anymore." Shawn answered while he took a step forward. Carlton did not like that step. He did not like that even though the younger man only moved forward a half a foot, it felt like he was right up against him. Why was it so hot? Carlton pulled at his collar and debated whether loosening his tie would look sexual. Wait what?

"And he's gone." Shawn added and even though he hadn't taken another step, he felt so much closer. Too close. Carlton cursed himself for buying this house. He knew the kitchen was too small. "It was my fault." Another step forward.

Carlton's fight or flight kicked in the instant Shawn moved and while things would've been a lot easier if "flight" won, Carlton Lassiter was not one for fleeing. Instead his arms shot out and he gave the younger man a viscous shove. Shawn stumbled back into the fridge rattling it enough to knock a few cereal boxes off the top. He'd dropped the glass he was holding and it shattered, sending glass in every direction. Carlton gripped his own glass tighter even though during the push, he'd spilled most of the scotch. What a mess.

"When is it not your fault?" Carlton asked, not exactly sure if he was referring to any specific time or just filling the silence with words. He'd expected many different things from Shawn in that moment. Yelling and some sort of theatrics were high on the list but he was stunned when instead of fighting back, Shawn bent down and started gathering the glass from the floor.

"Spencer," Carlton started, fed up with his behavior. He never thought he would see the day that he wished for Shawn to be acting like he usually did. "Just leave it."

Shawn did not listen. He continued to slide his already bandaged fingers across the floor with his head down. Carlton could feel his anger surging forward. He tried counting. Tried closing his eyes. Anything to keep it at bay but he was at the end of his rope. In a flash of pure rage he lifted his glass up and threw it straight down at the ground. It exploded along the floor, rocketing bits up into the air,

"SHAWN." He put so much force into the name that he even startled himself. Shawn shrunk back against the fridge and looked up with haunted eyes but Carlton didn't back down. It was all or nothing. "Tell me what is going on." He tried to level his voice out but only succeeded in making it sound just as menacing but in a lower tone.

Shawn pulled himself off the floor leaving a neat pile of glass by his feet. He leaned on the counter as if the effort of standing was enough to wind him. Heck, maybe it was. Shawn opened his mouth to answer but Carlton cut him off.

"And don't you dare say that you don't know." He warned.

"What if I don't know?" Shawn challenged, his own voice rising. "You assume I have all the answers but I don't."

"Then why did you come here?" Carlton shot back.

"I need you." All at once Shawn seemed to deflate. He sagged against the counter and hung his head. Carlton wasn't exactly sure what the other man meant by that but it called for drastic measures. Reaching over, he snatched the bottle of scotch off the counter and took a swig. He could definitely be more drunk. Shawn needed him. In what way? The kitchen walls were closing in on him again.

Before Carlton could find his voice, Shawn reached behind himself and pulled out a gun. Carlton's heart seemed to all together stop at the sight of it. He inhaled a sharp breath when the other man set it on the counter and he realized, with a little embarrassment, that it was his own gun. Shawn was returning it.

Carlton let his police training take over as he inched forward and picked up his gun. He didn't even have to check the clip to know that the gun wasn't loaded. He didn't ask what Shawn did with the bullets. Instead he walked over to where he had slung his holster over a kitchen chair along with his jacket and put the gun away. Shawn needed him?

He turned back to Shawn a little too quickly and had to shut his eyes against the dizziness. Yep. Drunk. He was certain that there was a joke about him being just like his father hidden somewhere in the whole situation but he left it alone. It's not like he drank all that often. And so what if he could appreciate a neat scotch now and then. That just showed he had good taste.

"As it turns out," Shawn began, sounding just a bit more composed. "You are an important part of my psychic abilities."

"Oh cut the crap." Carlton waved a dismissive hand and stalked into the living room. Along the way he passed the thermostat and gave it a good whack to make sure it was working. Shawn followed close at his heels. Carlton couldn't help but snort. Who's the dog now? He took a couple unsteady steps to get around his couch and wondered if Shawn was at least a little buzzed. He liked the thought of that but he wasn't sure why. "I don't know what kind of drug you slipped me but I will find out soon enough." Carlton held up his phone and dangled it in front of Shawn's face. The younger man made no move for it though. Instead he reached into his own pocket and pulled something out.

"Really, Lassie?" He taunted, raising an eyebrow. "You still don't believe me." He held up his hand and Lassiter felt his rage from earlier returning to a boil. Pinched between Shawn's fingers was a dull penny. "And here I thought maybe I'd gotten through to you a bit." The smirk was what sent Carlton over the edge. He was sure of it because in half a heartbeat he had launched himself at the younger man. Shawn put a hand out to defend but Carlton didn't care. He grabbed the arm and twisted it, wrenching it behind Shawn's back and forcing the man to turn around.

Shawn hissed as Carlton pressed him against the closest wall. It was a move he often used for handcuffing criminals. O'Hara wasn't a fan of it but Carlton loved it. He had to admit that using it on Shawn had a certain thrill that he didn't usually get. He gave the other man's wrist a wicked twist and grinned when he heard the penny hit the wood of the floor with a bounce. Shawn made a sound that could have been words but it was hard to tell with his face smashed against the wall.

Carlton backed off a bit and flipped him so that they were facing each other. He then leaned in close. Close enough to smell the scotch on Shawn's quick breaths. Oh God he loved scotch. He moved closer, chasing the smell. He completely forgot what he was doing. Was he about to threaten Shawn, or kiss him? It shouldn't be this hard for him to remember.

"You're drunk." Shawn said with another intoxicating puff of air. Carlton moaned. It was such an involuntary noise that he backed off in surprise. What the hell was he doing? Shawn used his new-found freedom to make an impossibly swift exit. He was out the door before Carlton could even formulate another thought. He turned around and saw the screen door swinging and tried desperately to wrap his mind around the encounter. Oh god.

The scotch was a bad idea.

It was noon when Gus cracked an eye open. His apartment was bright and quiet. Sleeping did not seem to help his broken body at all. If anything he felt worse now than he did when he crawled beneath the sheets only a few short hours ago. He was stiff and several things cracked as he stood up. He needed a hot shower but before he did that he had to do a Shawn patrol. He walked his entire apartment, albeit slowly and a little hunched, making sure that his friend had not taken the liberty of letting himself in again.

Once he was sure that Shawn wasn't hiding behind any potted plants or inside a kitchen cabinet, he made his way to the bathroom. Just as he was entering the threshold, the door to his apartment flew open behind him.

"I broke Lassie." Shawn announced, his eyes frantic. He sat on the couch and his whole body seemed to roll into itself. He rocked back and forth slowly.

"Nuh uh. No, Shawn." Gus was not about to have any of this. No way. Nope. "I don't think it is too much to ask to have just ONE morning to myself." Gus whined but Shawn ignored him, continuing his neurotic movements. Gus sighed heavily and trudged over, taking a seat next to pretty much the only source of stress within his life. He turned to say something but recoiled before he could.

"Have you been drinking?" He accused incredulously. "You smell like a distillery."

Shawn only nodded, keeping his eyes forward. Ignoring that it was only noon, Gus stood back up and grabbed the one thing he could find in his pantry. Very old tortilla chips. He threw them down in front of Shawn.

"Eat." He said and smiled when Shawn leaned forward and tore into the bag. Yep, hunger was still the worst for Shawn. "So what happened?" He asked, watching all the crumbs Shawn was spilling onto the floor. He should have known the other man wouldn't be able to stay away from Detective Lassiter.

"Do you think I can like..." Shawn paused, his eyes wandering around the room as if he'd be able to find the correct words on the ceiling. "Maybe force the way I am feeling on other people?" Gus stared at him trying to gauge how serious he was. By now he was getting a little tired of all the crazy.

"I dunno, Shawn." Gus said, humoring him. "Try thinking something really hard and I'll see if I react to it."

"Yeah!" Shawn sat forward eagerly and locked eyes with Gus. He tried not to feel insecure under the gaze but Shawn had a way of looking through people that Gus had decided he didn't like very much. It all became a little too absurd when Shawn tilted his head and began squinting.

"I don't think anything is happening." Gus said with an eye roll. "Just tell me what happened."

Shawn sat back in dejection and brought a hand up to rub his temple.

"I dunno, Gus. I was thinking..." Gus wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but Shawn looked like he was blushing. "..things. I was thinking certain things and then Lassie... he..." Shawn dropped his hands into his lap with a huff. "He was acting very un-Lassie-like." He concluded quickly.

"Not everyone is going to react to things the way you think they would, Shawn." Gus warned. Sometimes he thought that Shawn felt like he was the puppet master of the world. That he could flick a few strings and make people act the way he needed them to act for it to be convenient for him.

"But this was something that Lassie would never do, Gus!"

"How do you know that?" Gus challenged.

"I just do!" Shawn folded his arms.

"Listen." Gus pleaded. He was eager to wrap this up so he could have a long soak. "Whatever it is that Lassiter did, he did it because that's how he feels." He was guessing Lassiter wrote Shawn out of his life though he didn't consider that at all "un-Lassie-like." It would make sense though, considering the night from hell Shawn had put them through.

Shawn looked at him and confusingly, Gus saw hope in his eyes. But it was short-lived because the next thing he knew, Shawn's face had gone slack and his eyes vacant. He dropped back against the sofa bonelessly as Gus swore.

"No no no." He chanted, coming up next to the other man and giving him a shake. Not now. Not while a hot bath was practically screaming his name. But Shawn was already gone so Gus crouched down and instead admired the handiwork of his optometrist buddy. The contacts usually looked pretty normal but during one of Shawn's episodes they took on a strange glow-like quality. The green of Shawn's eyes was still there, but it looked almost as if the sun was shining on them. He reminded himself to call up and ask for a few more pairs. Shawn had an incredible memory but when it came to things like contacts and medication, he was unreliable at best.

Shawn came to with a gasp, startling Gus.

"What did you see?" He asked, watching Shawn's eyes dart around his apartment as he tried to orient himself. "I thought they wouldn't just happen like that anymore." Gus added. He was under the impression that the other man had more control over it.

Shawn shrugged. He looked pale and sweat was beading on his forehead.

"I don't know. It was just a bunch of flashes. Like a clip-episode but on major fast-forward." Shawn admitted as he stood, shaking his head.

"I have to go back to work on Monday." Gus said with regret. On one hand he was itching for life to get back to normal, but on the other hand he felt guilty about leaving Shawn alone to deal with things. He'd feel better if his friend had more of a handle on it but it didn't look like Shawn was even close to grasping his visions. It suddenly occurred to Gus that this was the way things were going to be from now on. No more easy-going days of watching reruns at the Psych office. There would always be this strain. He sighed.

"I know, Gus." Shawn said with a forced grin. He gave Gus a clap on the shoulder and stood with a small wobble.

"I can't believe you're drunk." Gus groaned, imagining his friend finding his way to one of those cruddy bars that are always open and drowning his Lassiter-induced sorrows. "How did you get here?" He asked sharply, remembering how far his apartment is from Lassiter's house. If Shawn drove drunk...

"Don't be a pair of mom-jeans, Gus." Shawn crossed his arms and stared down at him. "I didn't drive and I'm not even that drunk. I had a lot of time to sober up during the walk here."

"You WALKED here?" Gus sputtered. It had to be over a ten-mile walk.

"Keep up, Gus." Shawn quipped, smacking the back of one hand into his palm. "I went to Lassie's, I got a little drunk, I possibly corrupted his mind, and then I walked here." His tone suggested very little patience but Gus could see he was enjoying the run-around. His friend was at his best when he was in control of all the information. He would never willingly give it all up at once. He was always holding something back.

"I have to go do normal people things." Gus said, deciding to end the game then and there. "I'd tell you to stay away from Lassiter but I know you don't have nearly enough self-control to do that." Shawn at least had the decency to look a little affronted. He gave shrug but accompanied it with a lopsided grin.

"There is a Quantum Leap Marathon on SciFi tonight."

Gus smiled. Maybe things wouldn't be exactly the same, but they wouldn't be all that bad.

"Psych office at seven?" He put his fist out and smiled from ear to ear when Shawn met it instantly with a light bump.

"You know that's right."