A New Perspective on an Old Theme
folder
M through R › Psych
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
Views:
4,931
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Psych
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
Views:
4,931
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Psych, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 25 -- Stubbornness and Immobile Hair
“Maybe to you, who keeps trying to lock me up every chance you get, but to me, no. I‘ve actually done some stuff that was even more stupid . . .” He stopped and looked confused. “Wait a minute. That didn’t come out right,“ he glared at his Dad. “But anyway, I think trying to avoid the insane ward was a pretty smart thing to do, actually. Particularly when I don‘t belong there.”
“Damn it, Shawn,“ Henry said, suddenly deflated, and looked every bit his age as he held his hands out to his son helplessly. “You died! Don’t you understand that! All I . . . we want is for you to be safe . . .“
“Oh. Safe. Yeah, in a mental health ward no matter what I want, kind of way,“ Shawn scowled, and Gus shook his head.
“C’mon, Shawn. You said you see dead people, and every time you say you see them, you go into convulsions and start throwing up and then you pass out! Even you have to admit, that’s not normal . . . even for you. But, look, about that, I‘ve got a theory . . .”
“Look,“ Shawn sighed and rubbed his temples as his forehead started to ache. “None of you knows anything about what I’m seeing.” He looked up at them, and smiled sadly. “And you don’t have to keep telling me I died. I know I did. After all, I’m the one who had the whole walk-into-or-don’t-walk-into-the-light experience. I’m the one who floated around the hallway while a nurse kept my heart going with her hand. I’m the one who watched all of you as you sequentially worried, cried, gloated and then outed me as a fraud.
“I appreciate the fact that you were so worried. I appreciate the fact that you guys care enough to go to bat for me . . .” He smiled sadly. “But you can’t protect me forever, and you certainly can’t protect me from whatever has happened to me, whether you want to face it or not.”
“So, you’re still saying you see dead people,” Henry said quietly, and Shawn shrugged.
“Oh say, about that,” Gus suddenly interrupted. “I’ve been doing some research . . .”
“Look, whether you believe me or not, I know what I’ve seen,” Shawn‘s glare at his father darkened. “In fact, I’ve even helped a couple of murdered women find the light that I turned down . . .”
“Murdered women?” Karen asked, and Lassiter frowned.
“He’s just trying to cover up the fact there’s a leak in the department,” he said, trying to sound scathing, but his blue eyes flickered worriedly over Shawn’s thin frame.
“A leak?” Karen asked, confused at the sudden subject change. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone told Spencer about the cereal.”
“You mean the cereal?” She stressed, and Lassiter nodded.
“Shawn!” Juliet exclaimed as she looked horrified. “That was classified information! Who told you about the cereal!?”
“No one told me about it,” Shawn leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “They spit it at me.”
“What do you mean, ‘they spit it at me‘? Who spit cereal at you, Shawn?” Gus asked.
“Well, go on, Spencer,” Lassiter prodded. “Tell them about the three ‘ghost’ women who ‘appeared’ to you and spit three kinds of cold, children’s cereal at you.”
“Well, I would,” Shawn shrugged. “But you just did,” he grinned. “And pretty well too. I couldn’t have put it better.”
“Shawn,” Karen frowned at him, obviously concerned. “This is nothing to joke about. We have a killer who’s forcing cereal down women’s throats . . .”
“Which would explain why they’re spitting them up,” Shawn said and shook his head. “And I am so not making jokes here. I keep telling people what I’m seeing, and now hearing, and people keep trying to lock me up!”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think . . .” Gus tried again, and was forced to stop as Lassiter snarled.
“See?” He scowled. “See what I’m talking about? Someone’s been leaking information!”
“You know, your stubbornness is only exceeded by the absolute immobility of your hair,” Shawn snorted. “What’s so hard about believing someone who says they’re seeing dead women spit cold cereal at him?” He blinked. “Okay, strike that last part, but I know what I’m seeing and I know what I heard . . .”
“Okay, Mr. Spencer . . . Shawn,” Karen sighed and leaned forward as she clasped her hands together in front of her on her desk. “Tell me what you ‘saw’. Maybe together, we can make some sense out of all this.”
“Damn it, Shawn,“ Henry said, suddenly deflated, and looked every bit his age as he held his hands out to his son helplessly. “You died! Don’t you understand that! All I . . . we want is for you to be safe . . .“
“Oh. Safe. Yeah, in a mental health ward no matter what I want, kind of way,“ Shawn scowled, and Gus shook his head.
“C’mon, Shawn. You said you see dead people, and every time you say you see them, you go into convulsions and start throwing up and then you pass out! Even you have to admit, that’s not normal . . . even for you. But, look, about that, I‘ve got a theory . . .”
“Look,“ Shawn sighed and rubbed his temples as his forehead started to ache. “None of you knows anything about what I’m seeing.” He looked up at them, and smiled sadly. “And you don’t have to keep telling me I died. I know I did. After all, I’m the one who had the whole walk-into-or-don’t-walk-into-the-light experience. I’m the one who floated around the hallway while a nurse kept my heart going with her hand. I’m the one who watched all of you as you sequentially worried, cried, gloated and then outed me as a fraud.
“I appreciate the fact that you were so worried. I appreciate the fact that you guys care enough to go to bat for me . . .” He smiled sadly. “But you can’t protect me forever, and you certainly can’t protect me from whatever has happened to me, whether you want to face it or not.”
“So, you’re still saying you see dead people,” Henry said quietly, and Shawn shrugged.
“Oh say, about that,” Gus suddenly interrupted. “I’ve been doing some research . . .”
“Look, whether you believe me or not, I know what I’ve seen,” Shawn‘s glare at his father darkened. “In fact, I’ve even helped a couple of murdered women find the light that I turned down . . .”
“Murdered women?” Karen asked, and Lassiter frowned.
“He’s just trying to cover up the fact there’s a leak in the department,” he said, trying to sound scathing, but his blue eyes flickered worriedly over Shawn’s thin frame.
“A leak?” Karen asked, confused at the sudden subject change. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone told Spencer about the cereal.”
“You mean the cereal?” She stressed, and Lassiter nodded.
“Shawn!” Juliet exclaimed as she looked horrified. “That was classified information! Who told you about the cereal!?”
“No one told me about it,” Shawn leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “They spit it at me.”
“What do you mean, ‘they spit it at me‘? Who spit cereal at you, Shawn?” Gus asked.
“Well, go on, Spencer,” Lassiter prodded. “Tell them about the three ‘ghost’ women who ‘appeared’ to you and spit three kinds of cold, children’s cereal at you.”
“Well, I would,” Shawn shrugged. “But you just did,” he grinned. “And pretty well too. I couldn’t have put it better.”
“Shawn,” Karen frowned at him, obviously concerned. “This is nothing to joke about. We have a killer who’s forcing cereal down women’s throats . . .”
“Which would explain why they’re spitting them up,” Shawn said and shook his head. “And I am so not making jokes here. I keep telling people what I’m seeing, and now hearing, and people keep trying to lock me up!”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think . . .” Gus tried again, and was forced to stop as Lassiter snarled.
“See?” He scowled. “See what I’m talking about? Someone’s been leaking information!”
“You know, your stubbornness is only exceeded by the absolute immobility of your hair,” Shawn snorted. “What’s so hard about believing someone who says they’re seeing dead women spit cold cereal at him?” He blinked. “Okay, strike that last part, but I know what I’m seeing and I know what I heard . . .”
“Okay, Mr. Spencer . . . Shawn,” Karen sighed and leaned forward as she clasped her hands together in front of her on her desk. “Tell me what you ‘saw’. Maybe together, we can make some sense out of all this.”