by pebble/scifipony
Fandom: Psych
Characters: Shawn Spencer, Burton Guster, Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter, Buzz McNabb
Tags: AU, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Team As Family, Fluff
Story Warnings: Contains a character with a recent disability, and several discussions around that. Also contains many discussions and explorations into the topic of mental health and trauma.
Chapter Warnings: None
Words: 4,170
Author's Notes: n/a
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Gus rearranged his silverware for what had to be the fiftieth time since sitting down. He was getting odd looks from the other patrons, but he had more important things on his mind right now.
A quick scan of the outdoor cafe revealed that his guest still wasn't here. Not that he would be. Gus made sure to arrive almost a half hour early so he could grab a table on the far side of the patio, where they would have a bit more privacy.
The fact that Shawn had actually agreed to this meeting was more than he'd been expecting when he made that call. It was a year since they last spoke to each other in person — one year exactly today. There'd been a few phone calls and emails for a short while after that, but those stopped eventually, too.
After spending their entire childhood glued to each other, and a good portion of their adult life, the one thing Gus never would have expected was for their friendship to end so disastrously. Even Shawn's globe-trotting years hadn't weakened their bond; they'd simply kept in touch through phone calls and postcards and the occasional visits. Gus thought nothing could break them apart. If the dangerous, life-threatening schemes Shawn constantly pulled him into didn't do it, then surely they could work through any problem.
But then one simple little investigation went horribly wrong.
As much as Gus would do anything to go back in time and change the choices he'd made that day, he knew he couldn't. But maybe he could make things a little more right between them. He could finally admit to Shawn what he should have told him back then.
At the very least, maybe it would help ease a tiny bit of the guilt that weighed him down.
Glancing at his watch again, Gus realized it was finally the time they'd agreed on for this meeting. He scanned the patio again, and the sidewalk beyond it, shading his eyes against the late morning sun.
And then he saw him. For the first time in a year, Gus saw his childhood best friend and brother.
He was walking along the sidewalk, weaving through the other pedestrians as easily as anyone. There was a large canine of indeterminate breed trotting along beside him, service vest clearly visible. That was new. For that matter, so was the cane — the last time they'd seen each other, Shawn had still been in a wheelchair.
It was weird to see Shawn looking so independent and carefree. Strolling calmly down the sidewalk, a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes and his animal companion beside him. It was such a far cry from... well, Gus preferred not to think about the last memory he had of his best friend.
Ex-best friend, he reminded himself gloomily.
Gus stood as Shawn approached the table. He was fully prepared to call out to him — guide him with his voice — but to his surprise, Shawn made a beeline straight towards him.
Expertly navigating his way through the lightly crowded dining area, he stopped beside the table, nodding a tight greeting to Gus. He didn't look angry, but certainly uncomfortable. Well, that made two of them.
Now that he was in this moment, he realized he probably should have prepared what he wanted to say in way of greeting. What ended up slipping out instead was a startled, "How did you know where I was?" He could have slapped himself a moment later. They hadn't spoken in almost a year, and the first words out of his mouth are a blunt reminder of his friend's disability.
Thankfully, Shawn didn't seem offended by it. His lips quirked up into an easy smile and a small laugh escaped. "Who else would use that awful lavender oil? Had to be you."
Gus laughed in return, feeling himself relax slightly. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Please. You're just jealous of how easily I perfected this smooth look."
Shawn merely tsk-ed at him as they took their seats, the dog flopping down beside his owner's chair.
A waitress stopped by to take their order, both men opting for a light breakfast. It was painfully obvious that neither of them were anticipating a lengthy conversation. Personally, Gus was surprised they were keeping things civil even for this long, and chose to take that as a good sign.
Gus seized the opportunity to really take in his friend's appearance. Shawn looked so much better and healthier than he had only a year ago. He'd put back on the weight he lost, and his skin was no longer so pale from too many hours under hospital lighting. The scars were mostly faded now as well. His hair was styled into its usual messy perfection and he was wearing one of his favorite shirts. He looked almost like the old Shawn. If not for the obvious differences, Gus could almost pretend everything was normal.
"So, who's your friend?" he asked, digging for any topic that wasn't related to their reason for being here.
"Gus, meet Remington. Remy, this is Gus." Shawn leaned back in his chair as he introduced them, shifting his weight to not aggravate his leg too much. "One of Lassie's old partners is now in the dog training business. He set it up for me. Apparently service dogs usually cost a small fortune, and there's a ridiculously long waiting list. But this guy had a dog already mostly trained when the original buyer had to back out. Lassie took me to meet Remington after one of my physical therapy sessions, and it was love at first lick."
Gus was impressed with Lassiter for taking that initiative. He couldn't imagine Shawn being very cooperative about that situation. Needing a service dog had probably been frustrating for someone as independent as him.
"So, how is Lassiter doing? I saw him in the papers several months ago when he was shot by that Salmatchla guy. Who tries to shoot up a known cop bar anyway?"
Shawn shrugged. "Yeah, the bullet just grazed him, thankfully. He's doing fine. Much better since that Keller idiot finally got fired — that's the guy who's been making a disaster of the SBPD ever since Vick, uh, retired. Anyway, Lassie's the interim chief now. I estimate his evolution into evil dictator will be complete by the end of the month. He's already got Jules pulling extra shifts at all the worst hours."
Gus's gaze slid automatically to the wedding ring on his friend's finger, and he felt a sharp sting in his chest. "So... you and Juliet...?"
The smile faded from Shawn's face. "Yeah."
Not daring to venture further into that territory, Gus returned to his obsessive rearranging of the utensils. An awkward silence hung over them, during which the waitress arrived with their food. For once, neither of them seemed to have much appetite.
After poking at his meal for a minute, Gus dropped his fork with a sigh. This was ridiculous. Not talking about their problems was exactly what got them into this mess in the first place. "Look, I'm sorry I wasn't there for the wedding, Shawn. I just couldn't..." He abruptly cut himself off, not wanting to make excuses. "I should have been there."
Shawn was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. "I get it, Gus. It was a difficult time for everyone. We didn't exactly give a lot of warning, anyway."
"Did you have it at SeaWorld?" he asked jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. It was an odd reversal of their usual dynamic — not that anything about their relationship had been "usual" in a long while. But he was also genuinely curious. It was difficult to imagine Shawn actually settling down and getting married.
"Sadly, no SeaWorld. Jules vetoed the Jurassic Park theme, too. It was actually a pretty small ceremony. Nice, simple, quiet."
Gus scoffed. "Hard to imagine anything with you being simple or quiet."
Shawn shrugged again, toying with his straw. "Yeah, well, there was kind of a lot going on at the time. Didn't seem right to be having a big celebration. And it was still great. Juliet's parents and brothers were able to make it, and a couple people from the station. Buzz and Francie made the cake; apparently her uncle owns a bakery. And, of course, Lassiter and Marlowe were there as the witnesses."
"Marlowe?"
"Yeah, Lassie has a girlfriend now. It's... weird. She seems so normal, too."
It took Gus a moment to process that. Picturing Lassiter — the man who ridiculed the very idea of love — in a happy, committed relationship... Shawn was right, it was too weird. It seemed a lot had changed while he was away. It was crazy how much difference a year could make.
"And what about you?" Shawn asked, tone sliding into something more familiar. "How's the drug business going down there in the city that never sleeps?"
Gus rolled his eyes. "New York is the city that never sleeps. I'm based in Los Angeles, not Broadway."
"Yeah, but you've got Hollywood down there. That's gotta be exciting. You must have a few celebrity clients now, right? C'mon, what's Hugh Laurie really like?"
"He's not a real doctor, Shawn." Gus had to fight down the grin that was trying to escape him. This felt almost like old times. It felt good, but it also hurt too much. "Anyway, it's been working out pretty great. Already scored a promotion. I think my boss likes me. Finally getting recognized for that famous sales reptitude." He hesitated before asking the next question, not sure if it would be rubbing at an old wound. "And what about you? What have you been up to?"
"As shocking as this might be, I got a job. And number fifty-nine seems to finally be the lucky one. I'm a teacher."
"You are a teacher?"
"Ouch. Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy."
"No, seriously."
"Gus, do you not remember how I absolutely crushed it as a teacher when we worked the case at that braniac school?"
"I mean, you can't possibly be qualified, right? I feel like I'd know if you had teaching credentials."
"No, but do you remember when I was stranded in Wisconsin a couple years after leaving Santa Barbara? Most of the jobs I worked during that time were only part-time, and I was suuuper bored, so I went ahead and got my associate's degree while I was there. And I picked up a bunch more course credits while working at that bartending job in Chicago. Thankfully, the credits ended up being transferable. I didn't have a whole lot to keep to me busy while going through my physical therapy after... you know... so, my mom convinced me to enter an accelerated program to earn the rest of the credits I needed for my bachelor's degree."
"You have a bachelor's degree?"
"Again, ouch. Why is it so shocking?"
If he really thought about it, Gus had to admit it wasn't that unbelievable. Shawn's academic failings in childhood had never been due to a lack of ability to learn, but rather a lack of wanting to learn. The very few times he'd actually been motivated enough to ace a test, he'd always passed with flying colors as if it was nothing — only to be immediately accused of cheating by his teachers. The real surprise, he decided, what that Shawn had actually put the time and commitment into getting a degree.
"Anyway," Shawn continued, "I started out by doing a couple guest lectures at the police academy for an old family friend. He sat in on my classes and said he thought it was a good fit for me. He was the one who helped me get set up in an adjunct position at a local college, and I ended up liking it more than I thought I would. I'm doing a teaching residency right now at the college while I work on my master's degree, then I'll transition into a fulltime position."
Gus sat back in his chair, trying to wrap his head around the idea of Shawn as teacher. He shook his head. "What do you even teach?"
"Criminal justice. Mostly criminology and criminal psychology."
"And you like it?" Gus asked uncertainly, pushing another forkful of eggs around his plate. It was impossible to picture Shawn — who couldn't sit still for more than two minutes — being happy in a classroom setting.
"You know, that's the funny thing. I thought for sure I'd hate it. But I'm glad I gave it a shot. Some of the kids are really great to work with. There was this one boy last semester who is going to make an amazing defense attorney some day — I told him all about our stint as public defenders with Hornstock. Although, the dean can be a real stickler sometimes; apparently he doesn't approve of my 'unorthodox classroom environment', whatever that means."
"I can just imagine."
The silence that settled between them was slightly more relaxed this time. The waitress came to clear away the barely touched meal and they paid the bill. Gus struggled not to react when Shawn paid for his own breakfast.
"Do you want to walk?" Shawn asked after the waitress left.
Gus shot a look at the cane. "Are you sure?"
His friend's eyebrows rose questioningly from behind the sunglasses. It only took him a moment, though, to realize what Gus meant. "Oh, yeah, that's fine. I'm supposed to exercise anyway, to keep my leg from stiffening up. Remy and I are going to be so ready when they choose to host the walking Olympics competition here."
He snatched up his cane and the dog's leash, pivoting towards the sidewalk once more. Gus scrambled to catch up. This spontaneous energy was something that had been missing during the final months of their relationship, and he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be chasing after his hyper friend.
Gus wasn't surprised when their casual stroll seemed to automatically draw them to the pier. It was a beautiful late morning, the sun shining down warmly on the various food vendors. It would probably be unbearably hot later, but for now it was actually rather pleasant. Gus found himself growing nostalgic as they walked past the familiar churro and ice cream stands. Shawn led the way, Remington helping to guide him through the crowds of tourists and fishermen.
By the time they reached the end of the pier, they both knew that they needed to finally address the elephant in the room. And since Gus was the one who asked for this meeting, he supposed it was on him to start.
Taking a deep breath, he decided to cut straight to the heart of the matter. "Look, Shawn, I know a lot of things were left unsaid before — and there were also a lot of things that probably should have been left unsaid and weren't. But there was something I really should have told you about that night. You deserved to know. I just couldn't tell you back then, not with everything else we were going through. It's been eating at me ever since. I need to get it off my chest."
"Gus, stop." Shawn held up a hand to halt his friend's momentum. "Whatever it is, it doesn't matter anymore. I don't need to hear it."
"This could have made a difference, Shawn. If you'd known then—"
"But I didn't. And nothing can change what happened. Okay? It doesn't matter."
Gus's shoulders sagged in defeat. He should have known Shawn would still be angry. One year was apparently not enough to let go of what had happened. And could he really blame him for not being ready to forgive and forget? Maybe he'd tried too soon. Maybe in time...
With an exasperated sigh, Shawn flicked Gus on the ear. "Stop it!"
"Ow! What the– what's wrong with you?"
"I don't have to see your expression right now to know what you're doing. And you need to cut it out right now."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're taking yourself on the guilt-trip of the century, aren't you? Telling yourself it's all your fault and how mad I must be at you. Well, get off that train, Gus. We're derailing it right at the station, okay? In fact, we're putting it into full gear and Back to the Future-ing it right into that ravine."
"But—"
"Nope. I can only handle so much misplaced guilt in my life. And between Jules and Lassie, I've got my hands full. There simply isn't enough space for yours, too." The teasing tone dropped from his voice as he stopped walking and turned to face Gus. "I don't blame you, Gus. Never have. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have — to be fair, we both did — but it wasn't because I was mad at you."
Gus raised an eyebrow skeptically. "For someone who wasn't mad, you sure did a lot of shouting."
"I was mad, I just wasn't mad at you. And I couldn't exactly yell at the people I wanted to, could I? Still, that wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry for chasing you out of Santa Barbara."
"You didn't," Gus assured him. "Well, that was part of it, but it wasn't the whole thing. I had a lot of stuff to sort out on my own. A lot to think about. And we both needed the space."
Shawn turned away, taking off his glasses as he leaned on the railing. His face tilted upward slightly, eyes closed against the sun. He looked unusually peaceful.
Gus leaned on the rail beside him, content to wait for his friend to continue the conversation. He could clearly see the facial scars now that they weren't hidden behind the shades. They'd faded quite a bit, but they were still awful. A shudder ran through Gus as he remembered how bad they used to look.
"I missed you, Gus."
The voice was so soft that he almost didn't hear it over the ocean breeze.
"It was hard... doing it all without you. Every time I made progress in the physical therapy, it didn't feel right not celebrating with you. Bringing Remy home, finally getting out of that stupid wheelchair, my wedding... I wanted you there for all of it."
"You know, you could have picked up the phone. If I'd known you needed me, I'd have been there."
"Yeah, I know. But I couldn't ask that, not after..." His voice trailed off and he paused before laughing roughly. "Well, as fun as memory lane has been, that wasn't the point I was trying to make."
He pushed his sunglasses back on, shoving off the railing. The tension was back in his stance as he faced Gus again, his voice sliding back towards neutral and that familiar smile carefully forced back into place. He was closing off again, and Gus wished he knew how to knock down that door and get to his brother inside.
"It is good to see you again, Gus. Well, not see, exactly." He smirked, visibly making an effort not to say any one of the dozen jokes that had just popped into his mind. "But I meant it earlier, about having too much to handle already. It's taken a long time, but I'm finally learning to adjust. And I can't keep moving forward if everyone else is trying to drag me back. So no more guilt, okay?"
"I knew it," Gus said accusingly. "You've been watching daytime TV, haven't you? That had to come from Doctor Phil."
"My therapist, actually."
"You're seeing a therapist? Aren't you the guy who believes a healthy coping mechanism is inappropriate humor and junk food?"
Shawn put on an expression of mock offense. "First of all, was seeing a therapist. And secondly, Gus, you don't think I can mature and change? It was a healthy adult decision. You should be more supportive."
"Uh huh." Gus crossed his arms, not fooled by the innocent act. "Juliet made you go, didn't she."
"Yeah. It's amazing how scary she can be when she's determined. She may be small, but you do not want to get on her bad side."
Gus laughed, and Shawn joined him a moment later. It wasn't the teasing that made them feel so light. It was the shift they could both sense in the fragile surface between them. A tiny bit of something broken finally getting pushed back into place.
After the laughter died down, they drifted slowly back to the parking lot. There wasn't a silence between them this time. The late morning air was filled with gentle ribbing and movie quotes. They reached their destination far too soon.
"Well," Gus said, as they stopped beside his not-blue car. "I have a business meeting to get to this afternoon. Can I drop you off anywhere?"
"No thanks. I promised Remington a run on the beach today. How long are you in town?"
"A few days. A week, maybe. It depends on how soon I can close this deal."
Shawn nodded, scratching Remington behind the ears. "Well, good luck with that."
He straightened up, and Gus could tell their time was done. He hoped this wasn't it. Seeing his friend again reminded Gus how much had been missing from his life this past year. There was a hollow spot he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge until now.
As if sensing his thoughts — because, psychic or not, he could be uncannily accurate in that area — Shawn smiled cautiously. "It was great hanging out with you again, Gus. And... I'm sure Jules will want to see you before you leave town. Maybe we can have you over to test out the new air hockey table."
"You play air hockey?"
"That's insensitive, Gus. Shouldn't someone in your line of work know better?"
Gus whacked him on the arm, not even bothering to hide his grin. He knew Shawn didn't need to see it.
"Take care, buddy."
"You too, Shawn."
The little car pulled out of the parking lot, heading west. Through his rearview mirror, Gus could make out the familiar figure walking the opposite way, towards the beach. The pronounced limp and four-legged assistant didn't make the silhouette any less recognizable.
So much of their lives changed over the last year, and Gus had stubbornly remained fixed in the past — afraid of what he'd lose if he let himself accept that change. But he was perhaps slightly less afraid now. Because he now had the hope that maybe he didn't have to lose everything by accepting this new reality.
As he pulled onto the highway, Gus felt lighter than he had in a very long time.
~~~~~
The door of the little house swung open, the salty breeze wafting in lazily.
Shawn dropped his keys onto the entryway table and climbed the stairs to the living room. Remington trotted straight for the kitchen in search of his water dish.
It really had been good to be with Gus again. Weird and awkward and painful... but also good.
He hit the button on the answering machine, letting a message from Juliet play first. Yet another reminder about the landscaper. As much as he loved her, that extra bit of concern could be smothering at times.
He flopped onto the couch as the next message played, snatching up the tv remote. Remington hopped onto the cushion beside him.
"You want some Rockford Files or Die Hard?" he asked. That earned him a sharp whine of protest. "What? We can't watch Scooby-Doo every time."
Another whine had Shawn sitting up in concern. "Remy, you okay buddy? What's wrong?"
He reached out to the dog, his hand feeling it's way down the furry head to figure out what was upsetting him. Remington's muzzle was pressed against a small piece of cardstock on the other cushion. Whatever it was, it certainly had the canine freaked out.
Grabbing the card, Shawn felt it carefully. One side was smooth and blank — he couldn't smell any ink on it. But he was surprised to find a brief message in braille on the other side. It wasn't his. He only owned a few textbooks in braille, nothing this card could be from.
His fingers slid over the bumps, reading the two short words.
The card dropped to the floor and his fists clenched into the couch cushion. He gasped painfully, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. The card didn't need to be signed for him to know who had written it. And that person — that monster — had been here in his living room. He could still be in the house even now.
He needed to call Juliet. Or anyone, really. But his mind couldn't stop focusing on those two words on the card.
I'm back.
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