Fic: "The Hours That Are Passed," Part 7/10, Psych

[elles_letters]

Rating: PG-13
Summary: When a former partner of Henry's comes under investigation, Shawn will do anything to get assigned to the case. Turns out, he's not interested in helping an old family friend; he's out to protect himself.
Warning: Mentions of child abuse and use of coarse language.
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are the property of USA Networks and a bunch of other people in suits. Please don't sue.

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | [bonus] | chapter nine | chapter ten



Chapter Seven

Ian Stiles may have been a murdering child predator, but he still had great hair. Shawn frowned. He didn't deserve it. Karma should have cursed him with the scalp of Jean-Luc Picard.

"Look at my beautiful boy. I can't get over how handsome you've grown up to be." The older detective reached out to ruffle Shawn's hair.

"What are you doing here?" Shawn asked as he ducked out of reach. 

Ian forked an eyebrow. "I used to live here. I think the better question is, what are you doing here?" When Shawn didn't answer, Ian just grinned. "I missed you, too. I was hoping you hadn't forgotten me."

"Trust me when I say I've been trying."

"Are you angry with me, Shawny?" Ian asked. "Is that how you treat an old friend?"

"You used me," Shawn replied.

"I helped you. Sometimes we don't always appreciate the help people give us."

"Nothing you've done has deserved my appreciation."

"You mean to tell me I didn't make you happy? I find that hard to believe."

"You're sick," Shawn said, as if comforting himself. "You use people. You used me. You knew exactly how to play me to get what you want and make me feel so pathetic, I'd never rat you out."

"Let's not lie to each other, Shawny. I made you feel everything but pathetic."

Bile rose in Shawn's throat.

Ian sighed. "I've been in town for almost a month and you've spent the whole time avoiding me." He ran a hand through his hair. "Or at least, pretending to avoid me. You and Burton have been pretty busy following me around this past week."

"That a problem?"

Ian laughed. "Hardly. You two are harmless. Your cop friend on the other hand, he's starting to tick me off."

"Lassiter?" Shawn smiled humorlessly. "He has that effect on people." 

Ian gave him a lavicious grin. "So I noticed. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you seem to enjoy it."

Shawn scowled. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing," the former detective said with a shrug. "I'm just sad to see I've been replaced as your favorite cop."

"Favorite? You weren't even in the top 40. Fun fact: No. 27 is Barney Fife."

The older man laughed quietly. "I forgot how witty you could be."

"I'm a real sparkplug," Shawn deadpanned. 

"But I haven't forgotten how much you meant to me." Ian moved closer and lowered his voice. "I know what you've been looking for. Our photos." 

An icy chill shot through Shawn's heart. "You...you still have the photos?"

"Of course."

"You didn't give them to anyone else?"

"You think I'd share my beautiful boy?"

"Where are they?"

"Ah, ah, ah," Ian said with a wave of his finger. "I need something from you first. You see, you've created a real big mess for me. Not only have the police accused me of perversion, but now they're trying to pin a murder on me."

"Maybe you shouldn't be a murdering pervert."

Ian frowned. "Let's quit with the jokes. You want those photos, I want your detective friend off my ass. So let's make a deal."

"What do you want?"

"Come with me to my place. I'll give you the pictures, you do whatever it is you do to clear my name and we both part ways happy."

Shawn crossed his arms and pretended to think Ian's offer over. "Or," he began, "I could just let the cops catch you and smuggle the photos away when they confiscate all your sick souvenirs. You and I both know it wouldn't be that difficult." 

"Well, by then it will be too late," Ian said darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"My offer's a one-time only thing, Shawny. And if you don't take it now, you may find it'll be too late to keep our special moments just between you and me." 

Shawn swallowed. "You think I can just call them up, say you didn't do it and have everyone believe me? You think it'll be that easy?"

"It better be for your sake. What do you say? Go for a ride with me?"

The miniature Gus in Shawn's head screamed "Trap!" No way should Shawn leave the well-lit street in this well-lit neighborhood where the well-lit neighbors could look out their well-lit houses and make sure he wouldn't get well-lit up with bullets or whatever else Ian had planned for him. But Shawn paid less attention to the Gus in his head than he did the one in the real world.

"Only if you promise not to get fresh," Shawn answered. He smiled bitterly as mini-Gus threw a tantrum.

---

Shawn was surprised to see the detective's home in much better order than when he and Gus had last broken in. The stacks of boxes had been unpacked and the crumpled newspaper cleared out. The dining room table been assembled and a large ceramic buck sat on the center of it.

"Great job with the place," Shawn commented.

"I try. As you may remember, I entertain a lot. I like to have things around to capture people's interest. Kids love the animals."

Shawn stiffened. "How many kids do you 'entertain'?"

Ian grinned smugly. "Calm down, Shawny. It's nothing like that." He headed toward the kitchen and stirred something in a large slow cooker. "Hungry?" he asked as he pulled out two bowls from his cabinets. "I make a great beef stew."

"Are you serious? You think I want a snack?"

"I think I'm just trying to be a good host," Ian said with a sigh. He ladled a single serving of stew into a bowl. "I don't remember you ever being this uptight."

"I think it's safe to say you never really knew me."

"No, no. I think you've been hanging around that police station for too long. The place is full of drags, especially that lanky fellow you're always panting after."

Shawn quirked a lip, but refused to take the bait. "You're very fascinated with Det. Lassiter, aren't you?"

"I'm fascinated by your fascination." 

"Excuse me?"

Ian sat at the dining room table with his food and motioned for Shawn to join him. "No worries, Shawn. I'm sure it's completely professional. He's good, I'll give him that. He certainly deserves the title of 'Head Detective.'"

Shawn almost smiled and sat down. "He's the best."

Ian grinned maliciously but didn't respond. "I guess that explains why you spend so much time with him. From what I hear, he and his partner are the only detectives you and Burton work with."

"Who'd you hear that from?"

"Does it matter? I suppose I can be comforted by the fact that the detective will never be as close to you as I am."

"Don't flatter yourself," Shawn said sharply. "I'd pick him over you any day. You're a sick monster that takes advantage of people. He's done more to help me—to help this city—than you have in your entire career."

"Protective, aren't we?"

Shawn stood up. "I don't have time to play these games with you. Where's what I came for?"

Ian patted Shawn's hip where his phone stuck out from his pocket. "You've got a phone call to make."

"I want to see the photos." 

"Call the nice man first, and tell him I've been a good boy."

Shawn hesitated a moment before pulling out his phone. He dialed Carlton's number and was surprised when he picked up on the first ring. "Spencer! Where are you?"

"Lassie! I'm surprised that you're not surprised to hear from me."

"Guster called. He said you left your office an hour ago and he hasn't heard from you since. Where are you?"

"Don't worry, Lass-a-frass, things are good. I've got some news for you: Stiles didn't do it."

"Didn't do what, Spencer? He's been accused of quite a few things. Which crime are you talking about?"

"That's right. I saw it all. Turns out the actual murderer is a stylish rapper with dreams of starting his own fashion line. He must have been concentrating on potential stage names when he did the deed and that's why I kept getting 'Stiles'. The spirit world sometimes experiences a lot of static."

"What the hell are you babbling about?"

"That's right. I can't believe it, either. But hey, it's not like I haven't been wrong before."

"Since when do you admit—"

"Oh, no need, Lassie. I'll be sure to tell him myself. I'm sitting right here with him."

The line was silent and Shawn feared the call may have dropped. He panicked for a moment before hearing a slow exhalation from the other end.

"You're with Stiles and you can't talk," Carlton stated quietly. "Is that right?"

"You got it, Lassie." Shawn looked over at Ian who remained at the table eating his supper. His face was unreadable as he listened in.

"Listen to me, Spencer: Don't hang up. Keep him talking. I'm on my way."

"Well, I'm sure he'll appreciate that, Lassie. Tell Gus I'll see him tomorrow. Oh, and that the detective definitely shares his love of Spy Kids."

"Will he know what the hell you're talking about?"

"Good night, Lassie," Shawn replied before tapping the screen and slipping the phone in his back pocket. He looked over to where Ian was sitting and smiled.

"Guess he's not as quick as I thought," he said lightly.

"So, it would seem," Ian answered as he stirred his stew. 

"Well, I've cleared your less-than-credible name. Now where's what I came for?"

Ian sighed before rising from the table. Shawn watched as he rinsed his dishes and put away the left-overs. Ian dried his hands on a paper towel, and as he approached Shawn, he gave him a leering smile before sticking his hand in his back pocket and pulling out his phone. Shawn leaped at the contact.

"What'd I'll tell you about trying to cop a feel?"

Ian held the phone to his ear for a few seconds before throwing it into the wall. The small electronic bounced off the plastered wall before falling to the ground, its glass face shattered and dark.

"What the hell?" Shawn yelped.

"I know you consider me a lot of things, Shawny, but I never thought you thought I was an idiot."

"What are you talking about?"

"The detective didn't buy your weak little story, did he? And now he knows something is up."

"No, I told him! I told him you didn't do it. He believed me. You heard it."

Ian nodded. "Yeah, I heard it. And I've learned enough about the two of you to know there's no way he'd take your word that easily."

"What can I say?" Shawn replied easily. "We've been getting along a lot better these days." 

The older detective slammed his hand down on the solid coffee table. "I've noticed! Is he on his way now to rescue you?"

"What would I need rescuing from, Detective?" Shawn asked quietly. The other man continued to glare at him and for the first time since they'd reunited, Shawn felt that familiar wisp of fear. Ian Stiles had been a dangerous man: manipulative and constantly in need of Shawn's reassurances that he'd never betray him. Fifteen years later, he was still dangerous. And now he was pissed, angered by Shawn's pathetic showing and exhibiting strange jealously over his relationship with Carlton. It was time to get out. 

"Give me my photos," Shawn ordered quietly. "I did what you asked. Now give me what I want." 

Ian laughed, before taking time to collect himself. "Oh, Shawny," he said as he turned away and headed for his bookshelf. "I can't believe you're still this easy." He pulled a handgun from the top shelf and aimed it toward Shawn. 

"Where are my photos?" Shawn asked again. 

Ian scoffed. "I've got a gun pointed at you and all you're concerned with is those damn pictures?"

Shawn swallowed; his throat and mouth were sticky and dry. "You going to kill me? I thought I was your 'beautiful boy.'"

"You were," Ian frowned. "My beautiful boy. And now you're just another tool for the department. If you wanted the pictures, you could have just asked. But you lied to me. Followed me around like some rat and pinned that murder on me."

"You did murder that man," Shawn said calmly.

"I was cleaning up. Cleaning up after the mess you created."

"Put the gun down, please. Give me the pictures and I'll tell Det. Lassiter and the chief that you had nothing to do with that. I'll tell them until they believe me. I promise."

"Stop being so stupid, Shawny. There are no pictures!"

Shawn nearly choked. "What?"

The older detective smiled. "My favorite photos of my favorite boy? I shared those as soon as I got them. All my friends adore you, Shawny."

All my friends adore you. Shawn felt his legs go limp and he slumped to the floor. "You didn't?"

"Yes, I did. But I still have digital copies. Much less of a hassle to deal with when moving."

Shawn barely heard him through his own devastation. The photos. There were no photos. No real photos, at least. Nothing he could touch, hide or destroy. His secret shame had already been shared with countless leering predators and perverts. And then there was Leonard. The man was killed thanks to Shawn's search for a disgusting artifact from his childhood that was already out of his grasp.

"You've caused me a lot of problems, Shawny, and I thought maybe you could fix things." Ian muttered. "Ever since I've come back, all you've done is hurt me. I can't let that continue. I won't let them continue to ruin you."

The pop was loud and deafening. And then Shawn's arm was on fire. A searing pain radiated from above his elbow and nearly knocked him out with its power. Warmth flowed down his arm and through the fingers he splayed across his upper arm.

And the last thing he remembered before giving in to the blackness was the sound of wood splintering and someone calling his name.

"Spencer!"

A/N: FYI: Lemon Martinis are awesome. *is tipsy*

It's late but I wanted to share this ASAP since I constantly feel guilty when this story isn't updated quickly. I wish I knew how other people are able to post chaptered stories so fast. They must write them all the way out in advance, because I swear I work on this a little bit each day and I still take forever. I'm amazed at how fast six weeks will go by.  =/

Anyways, we're getting close to the end. Stiles' character isn't as fleshed out as I'd like him, but I hope everyone gets his motivation. Basically, he's old and he's desperate. (And he may be a little jealous.) What's worse, the one person he thought could help him get out of this mess, won't do it. I feel like I could write more about Stiles and Shawn, but no ones here for that. On to the Shassie.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

I would totes read however you wanted to write this story!
It's getting super exciting! I could physically feel the tension in my chest.
*cheerleads the writing of chapter 8*

[pazz-and-jop.livejournal.com]

Awwww, thank you! I can feel the support! \o/

[batneko.livejournal.com]

Sadfaces forever.

(I don't mind if you take a while to update, I'd rather read quality than speed.)

[pazz-and-jop.livejournal.com]

Aw, no sadfaces. Thank you for the encouragement! I'm glad you're sticking around. =D

[obviouslysubtle.livejournal.com]

First time commentor here! I love your story and can handle the wait if it means I get quality fic as a reward for patience.

I think I'm here as much for the creepy dynamic between Stiles and Shawn as I am for the Shassie. It fleshes out your version of Shawn, not just the baddie in your story. I think revealing the specific ways Shawn was affected by Stiles' abuse explains a lot about Shawn's coping mechanisms and his attitude toward intimate relationships. In turn it deepens the reader's understanding of how Shawn and Lassie's relationship will develop in the narrative. Basically what I'm saying is that if you feel you can write more about Stiles and Shawn, please do. I'll read it, at least.

Keep up the great work, enjoy your lemon martinis, and I'll keep an eye out for more updates!

[pazz-and-jop.livejournal.com]

Yay, thank you! (And yay! lemon martinis!) I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I'm glad you're sticking around.

I guess I just felt like Stiles had been mentioned so many times in the story that maybe his scenes should have been longer/had more impact? But I'm glad you're enjoying their dynamic. I'm not done with him yet. I still have some strings to tie up!

[wiccachic2000.livejournal.com]

Not only was I here for this ^ but I was also here to see if Henry finally pried his head from his arse in regards to his son.

[pazz-and-jop.livejournal.com]

Henry will get it eventually. He may be a hard-ass, but there's never been any doubt to whether or not he loves Shawn. =D

[an-sceal.livejournal.com]

Dude, I would read whatever you wanted to write. I love how you skirt the edges of "too much" and never cross the line. Your implied violence and ick-factor is stellar, and I love the way you've handled this entire story. I hope you veer off in whatever direction you want to go!


ETA: Sorry, I call everyone "Dude". It's in no way meant as an assumption of your gender, I was just raised by stoners.

[pazz-and-jop.livejournal.com]

Dude, I was raised by potheads, too. I can't say it damaged me too badly!

I'm always glad when you comment, cause I'm glad you still have the patience to stick with me. Thanks for the awesome comment. =D I really do appreciate the kind words.

[an-sceal.livejournal.com]

Nah, me neither. Plus, I was a very mellow child.

I look forward to every update, and I know how hard it is to keep a WIP rolling, so I'm always excited when I see a new part. Plus, I just adore the way you write Psych. You keep the absurd edge, without stumbling into mockery of the characters or forgetting that they're real people, under the funny personality quirks. (Something the show sometimes forgets.)

[laura-trekkie.livejournal.com]

Poor Shawn :(. I'm glad Lassie's come to his rescue, but however things go from here, surely Carlton, at least, is going to find out Shawn's secret? How will things go now? Stiles can't get out of shooting Shawn, regardless of the other charges against them... unless he takes a shot at Lassie and escapes... I can't wait to see how things pan out.

Laura.

[pazz-and-jop.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you're still following the story! \o/ Thank you for the encouragement.

"Stiles can't get out of shooting Shawn, regardless of the other charges against them... unless he takes a shot at Lassie and escapes"

I can't have both of them severely injured! (...or maybe I can...)

[princess vyxin (from livejournal.com)]

i love reading this :3

[pazz-and-jop.livejournal.com]

Thank you! =D