Chapter 1: Shot Through the Heart

Gus honestly didn't know why he expected any different.

The pharmaceutical rep had enough tensions in his life - his boss chewing him out for the recent decline in sales, his apartment bill and the Psych office bill coming due, and he's still single status. But the constant and largest stress was a certain psychic detective. So when he was rudely awakened from his comfortable mattress by a random phone call at an ungodly hour, he was angry. But most definitely not surprised.

Gus buried his face into the soft layers of his silk pillow covers, desperately trying to shut out the ringtone. After the third consecutive call, he reached out to his phone, pressing the button while still keeping his head deeply buried in the marshmallow soft pillow. "What is it, Shawn?" His muffled voice clearly indicated the obvious annoyance that Shawn was currently inflicting on him.

"I found it, Gus!" Shawn exclaimed, completely oblivious to Gus's plight.

Gus turned his face to the side, so that he faced the phone. He cracked his eyes open slightly, still not quite catching what had Shawn wandering around at this time in the night. "Found what?"

"The warehouse, buddy," Shawn explained. When his friend failed to respond, the psychic proceeded to explain. "You know, the one from the case Chief Vick gave us earlier today."

That prompted the previously sleeping man to prop himself on his elbows. "Shawn, didn't Chief Vick tell you explicitly not to work on that case while they are still determining what jurisdiction this falls into?"

Gus could imagine his friend rolling his eyes. "Gus, don't be the girly pink silk-covered pillow on your bed." Gus's eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. How did he know that? "Of course, the Chief would say that. She also left the folder in plain view. She was clearly telling me to look into it."

Gus now sat up on his bed as he glared at the phone. "I'm sure that's not what she meant." He heard his best friend let out an over dramatic sigh.

"Look, buddy," Shawn started. "I need to look into this warehouse, and I can't do it without you. I already sent you the address. You need to get down here."

Gus plopped back onto his bed, digging his head back into his pillow in exasperation. "No!" He cried out petulantly, before proceeding into a series of grunts and tsks to express his denial. The phone responded with a similar set of noise, an attempt to convince him otherwise.

"Fine," Gus finally conceded, proceeding to sit up on his bed, as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Awesome!" the pseudo-psychic exclaimed. Gus imagined he was probably doing a small victory dance. "Get here right away!"

Gus picked up the phone, speaking directly and urgently into it. "Don't go into the warehouse without backup, Shawn!" … and the distinct click of the phone turning off mid-sentence. Damn, his friend was 5 seconds too fast.

He quickly pulled himself off his comfortable bed, a weird sinking feeling in his stomach even as he wrestled into his dress pants from earlier yesterday. Gus couldn't remember the exact details of the case, but he did remember Chief Vick specifically keeping Shawn out with perhaps a mention or two of how dangerous it could be.

He sighed, as he pulled a sweater quickly over his pajama top, grabbing his keys as he stared at the address on the phone. Getting into the Blueberry, he weighed the pros and cons of calling Detective Lassiter at this time.

His friend's safety won over self-preservation, and he dialed Lassie's number, pulling out onto the street at the same time.

Lassiter picked up after one ring. "Detective Lassiter." His voice sounded hoarse, and a bit weary. He also sounded a bit distant, showing Gus that he might be on his bluetooth speaker of his car. What was Lassie doing at this hour, driving around Santa Barbara?

Gus never asked the question, instead getting straight to the topic. "Lassie, this is Gus." There was a pause, and Lassie didn't reply. Gus squashed the abnormality of the situation, proceeding to talk urgently. "Shawn said he found the warehouse for that case earlier today. I know, it was the case Chief Vick specifically told him not to work on. But he's there right now, and I'm hoping you can go to that warehouse to back him up. Just in case."

And throughout his little ramble, Gus noticed the normally indignant detective (especially at Shawn's antics) kept quiet. Gus would be lying if he said that didn't perturb him.

"Where is Spencer?" There was a slight growl in his voice, a small resemblance at his normal annoyed self. But there was also a reclusive quietness. Almost contemplative.

"I texted you the address," Gus replied, driving past the traffic light as he turned towards the harbor. "I'll be there soon." There was no reply, except for the click that Lassie had hung up his phone.

Gus huffed, frustrated at his inconsiderate friends.

Several minutes later, Gus finally did pull up in front of the warehouse, standing near export/imports bay. There was a dimming yellow street lamp illuminating the side of the building, and two silhouettes standing facing each other. One had a gun pulled out, pointed at the other's chest.

Dimly, Gus got out of his car making his way to the figures until he could finally make them out.

Shawn Spencer stood closest to the warehouse, his back facing the metal wall, and his eyes held steady. Alarmingly, the entirety of the left side of his face was splashed in blood, dripping onto his shoulder. And Gus's normally weak stomach churned at the sight.

"Shawn!" he cried, without even noticing the other perpetrator. Shawn turned his head slightly, shocked at seeing his friend.

"Gus, stay out of this." And Shawn's voice was serious. But his friend chose to ignore it, stepping forward in concern.

"Are you o- "

"You should listen to him, Mr. Guster," a voice interrupted. A very familiar voice.

Gus turned his attention to the perpetrator. His eyes widened in shock as he looked into the bloodshot eyes of Santa Barbara's finest detective (Over 40, Shawn would have added).

Detective Lassiter looked absolutely livid, his gun pointing straight at Shawn's chest and his eyes burning with a predator's intent to kill.

Gus held out his hands instantly, in a vain gesture to placate whatever Shawn had done to aggravate the older man. "Wait," he started, instantly silenced when Lassie pulled the safety. Shawn flinched slightly, closing his eyes almost resignedly, before opening them to coax Gus to just leave.

What happened next was shockingly fast and slow at the same time.

Gus watched horrified as Lassie pulled the trigger and the bullet ripped through the air, hitting Shawn in his chest.

Shawn crumpled to the ground, a red patch bleeding out of his body at an alarmingly rate.

A/N: How's that for a beginning? First Psych fic. I actually have no story planned, I just had this weird scenario and I wanted to play it out. What do you think?