Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch

by PapayaK

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

BETA: The Mega-Literate, Super-Intelligent, DinerGuy, 'A Reference, Not a Definition' - If not for her kindness and persistence, this story would not exist.

This is set somewhere in late season 7 early season 8, so there will be Shules.
Rated T because everyone has a different definition of what 'Graphic' means…

oO0Oo
Chapter 1
oO0Oo

Fist bump and victory dance.

"Good work, Spencer," grudgingly.

A sweet smile. "Nicely done!" lovingly.

Actual, spontaneous (slow clapping) applause from the station at large.

"The department thanks you. You can pick up your check," formal and appreciative.

A single fatherly nod… but there was just a hint of pride in it.

oOo

It was pretty good for a Wednesday.

Okay – really good.

Not all those things had happened at once, but they had all happened in the last 24 hours, and that was something of a record for Shawn.

It had been a tough case; even for him. It had traveled from dead end to dead end and he had very nearly given up. He'd even gone to his dad for help more than he'd ever done before. But in the end, with Gus's help, he'd seen through the murderer's plan. He'd finally found the clue that pulled it all together.

He'd put that disbelieving but grudgingly appreciative look on Lassie's face that he'd come to crave over the years.

Yeah - it was a good day.

He was nearly giddy with glee as he entered his favorite smoothie shop in celebration. He was going to buy himself a pineapple, and Gus a mango-orange, and he wasn't even going to use Gus's credit card to do it.

He was feeling generous.

He was feeling quite proud of himself.

He liked this feeling. He liked it very much.

He flirted with the girl behind the counter until she blushed and giggled. That was fun, too, especially since she knew he was madly in love with Jules and took his flirting in the way he intended - light and insincere.

"Good-bye, Lucinda, queen of the pineapples!" He was still grinning and almost bouncing as he pushed the door open with a hip, his hands full of large Styrofoam cups. He stepped out into the bright sunshine.

"Mr. Spencer?" A rather short, sturdy man in a charcoal suit and matching tie walked up to him. He had greying hair, but dark piercing eyes.

"At your service," Shawn replied jauntily with a slight bow; he was also feeling very ready for a new case. "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Dr. Mallow, and I'd like the opportunity to visit with you."

"Is your first name Marsh? Come on, tell me your first name is Marsh."

The older gentleman just raised an eyebrow.

"Heard that one before, huh?" Shawn asked.

"Not since high school, I must admit," he frowned.

Shawn cleared his throat. Not even a grumpy client was going to ruin his mood today. "Our office is just up the block. Would you care to walk with me?" he asked, overly polite.

Grumpiness temporarily diverted, the gentleman continued, "Actually, I would very much appreciate you coming to my office."

Shawn considered. It was unusual but certainly not unprecedented. "Mmm… Sure, Gus and I can be there any time."

"Ah, you misunderstand me." The man raised a finger. "I am not looking for the services of a detective agency."

"Psychic detective agency," Shawn corrected.

His not-client smiled politely and shook his head slightly. "Either way, I do not need a detective. I need you."

"Reeealllly?" Shawn asked, flattered. "Why's that?" His smoothies were beginning to melt so he began to walk back toward Psych, his new friend joining him.

Dr. Mallow leaned over somewhat conspiratorially. "I understand you have an eidetic memory?"

Shawn frowned at that and nearly stopped in his tracks, barely managing to keep his surprise to himself. There were very few people in the world who actually knew he had that particular gift, and while having it and being psychic were not mutually exclusive, one could easily lead people to doubt the other. For that reason, he usually kept that little fact under wraps. "I'm not sure where–"

"Oh come now, Mr. Spencer. May I call you Shawn?" The stranger didn't wait for an answer but continued, "I don't care if you are psychic or not. However, I do have a fascinating, lucrative, and confidential interest in people who have exceptional memory capabilities… You do have it, right? An exceptional memory?" He gave Shawn a business card and a look that said, 'How can you possibly resist?' "If you are interested, please meet me at my office tomorrow at… shall we say 10am? We don't want to get up too early – all that traffic and what-not."

And with that, he abruptly turned back the way they had come.

Shawn paused, puzzled but intrigued. "How lucrative?" he called after the man.

The doctor turned briefly and smiled. "Come tomorrow and find out." With that, he turned and walked away.

Shawn watched, frowning, until he disappeared around the corner. "Huh."

A drip of condensation ran over his fingers, reminding him of his mission, and he continued thoughtfully on towards Psych.

Gus was happy and pleased to receive his free mango-orange smoothie and the two friends spent the evening revisiting all the fun, exciting, and challenging bits of their most recent case.

The odd but interesting encounter with Dr. Mallow never came up.

oO0Oo

The next morning, Shawn was at the office by nine. He'd had to get up early to take Jules to the airport. She and Lassiter had to go up to Sacramento to testify in a case they'd help the feds solve last month. Shawn wasn't terribly interested since he and Gus hadn't been in on it. It had been a straightforward issue of drug smuggling; no need for psychics. And, while he missed Jules, it wasn't all bad. Her absence meant that he and Gus could finally have the CHiPs marathon they'd been putting off ever since he and Jules got back together.

Hopefully she'd only be gone for two nights. If the case progressed as expected and wrapped up on Friday, he would pick her up at the airport on Saturday morning. He'd stuck post-it notes to every wall in the house with her flight number and time of arrival so he wouldn't get distracted.

Meanwhile, Gus would be at his other job for a few hours yet, so Shawn sat at his desk and twirled Dr. Mallow's business card in his fingers, considering. The words 'lucrative' and 'confidential' kept dancing around each other in his head, and he wondered if maybe he should find out a little more.

He shrugged, decided it couldn't hurt, and pulled open his laptop. A few clicks later, Shawn knew that Dr. John M. Mallow (maybe his middle name was Marsh!) was a professor of psychology at a small university in Kansas. He had no criminal record. He had received a few parking tickets in the small town where he lived, but they had been promptly paid. He'd never been married and he had no children.

Shawn also found a paper, published in a little known psychology journal, by a Prof. J.M. Mallow that delved into current Alzheimer's research and potential new treatments. He didn't actually read anything other than the table of contents and the first page, but it seemed legit. Boring… but legitimate.

"Guess the guy has a thing about memory," he mused quietly. And then, with nothing else to do, he made a decision. "Let's go see just how lucrative this thing is." He tossed the business card on his desk, having memorized the address, and left. He should have plenty of time to get to Mallow's office by 10.

oO0Oo

"Shawn!" Dr. Mallow cried when he came into the office. "How good of you to keep our appointment! Come in, come in!"

Smiling somewhat awkwardly because of the weird, overly enthusiastic welcome, Shawn came in and plopped down on the couch. "Nice digs, Doc," he said, trying to sound sincere. No sense antagonizing a potential source of income.

Dr. Mallow smiled around at his office. "Mmm, well, it does the job."

In truth it wasn't all that impressive. The basic furniture and impersonal, generic art on the walls screamed 'furnished rental.'

"Not in town long?" Shawn asked innocently.

"I travel quite a bit for research," the doctor explained dismissively. "It's often easier and cheaper for me to travel to visit my… subjects than it is to get them to visit me."

Shawn raised an eyebrow at 'subjects.' He wasn't anyone's guinea pig.

Mallow sensed his discomfort and got to the point. "Let's talk details, shall we?" He slid a piece of paper across his desk towards Shawn, who picked it up and scanned it. "That explains exactly what is required of you, including the approximate schedule, how much time you will need to set aside for our research, and the amount I will be able to pay you. Are you interested?"

Shawn looked at the comma in the amount of his stipend and at the number of hours required – no comma. He thought about the fact that they'd just finished a big case and had nothing on the horizon. He considered how Gus had been complaining about his spending – 'over-spending,' Gus would say, but who didn't need a spy camera for their office - inside and out? 'Why not?' he thought and asked, "Where do I sign?"

When they had finished filling out a bit of paperwork, Shawn stood, shook the doctor's hand, and turned to leave.

Dr. Mallow's voice stopped him. "Oh, and Shawn – please be sure and remember the confidentiality agreement you signed. Not even your business partner – Mr. Guster, is it? – can know about our research."

When Shawn frowned uncomfortably at that, Mallow continued. "It really benefits us both. My field is cut-throat. Others will take advantage of my research if they can, and as for you, I think you'd like your amazing memory to remain a secret, right? So even though Mr. Guster may already know your secret, that does not clear him to know about our work together, or our contract will be null and void and you won't see another penny."

Shawn nodded unhappily and turned away. Oh well. The cash he would be bringing in all by himself would be more than enough comfort to his buddy. And if it came right down to it, he would have no trouble breaking that promise and telling Gus everything - he owed Gus a lot more than he owed 'Dr. Marshmallow!'

"I don't want to take any more of your time today, Shawn," Mallow said.

Shawn was already on his way to the door, but the creepy Doctor apparently wanted to make it clear that Shawn wasn't leaving so much as being allowed to leave. "It is my policy to pay the participants in my study a portion of their fee in advance." He held out a check, forcing Shawn to retrace his steps to take it. "Consider it a deposit on the work we will do together."

Shawn eyed him suspiciously before reaching out to take the check. Something about this guy was just off. The secrecy, the evasiveness, the general creep factor had Shawn almost ready to refuse. But he was still feeling pretty good from yesterday, and it would be fun to have a chance to show off what he could do without worrying if anyone found out. Plus the doc was a little guy, how dangerous could he be? And once he saw the amount, his concerns faded considerably. He smiled, suddenly feeling much better as Mallow escorted him to the door. "See you tomorrow, Doc!"

oO0Oo

On his way back to Psych, Gus called. As it turned out, it wasn't going to be all that difficult to keep the news from Gus – at least for a while. His best friend had been guilted into spending the weekend helping his parents paint their living room. Gus had called to see if he could talk Shawn into helping, but Shawn's 'carpal tunnel' was suddenly acting up.

"Shawn, I know that at least one of your 57 jobs was as a painter, and I know it was one of the few where you weren't actually fired – so I know you know how to paint."

"You're right, Gus, I left 'Have Brush Will Paint' over creative differences."

"Let me guess, you wanted to paint some little girl's room black?"

"She was totally into Goth, Gus," and then he continued thoughtfully, "Or maybe that was me… or the girl I was dating… Debbie? Or was it Marie…?"

"Shawn!" Gus tried to bring him back on track.

"Either way, I'm pretty sure I'm not the man for the job."

"You'll do just fine, Shawn. And if you help, we can still have the CHiPs marathon."

"After painting all day? Gus! You know painting would require Miami Vice.

"Shawn – ChiPs goes with paint just fine." A thought occurred to Gus. "Paint CHiPs! Ha!"

"I can't do this with you right now, Gus. Besides, I'm busy. I have an appointment."

"An appointment? Shawn! What are you doing?"

Oops.

"Actually I told my dad I'd help him with some project he's got at the house, so I obviously can't help you," he covered quickly.

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"You didn't ask, Gus. You never ask if I'm busy."

"You never are."

"Well, now I am."

"Fine." Gus paused for a moment. "CHiPs Friday night, instead?"

"Okay – but we might need Miami Vice for a spacer here and there."

"You know that's right."

oO0Oo

The first session with Dr. Mallow on Friday afternoon, actually turned out to be really fun. Shawn rarely got to show off quite like this. The only other person who'd ever asked him to demonstrate his exceptional memory was his dad. And he could never impress Henry – no matter how hard he tried. Mallow, on the other hand, never stopped complimenting him.

And he never once asked how many hats were in the room.

They started with photographs. The doctor would show him a picture and then put it away. Next he asked him questions about what had been in it – down to the tiniest detail. It was child's play for Shawn.

Each new photo was shown to him for less and less time, and each photo made the doc more and more impressed.

When Shawn had no difficulty describing every aspect of a detailed picture he'd seen for less than a second, Mallow sat back in his chair and stared. "You are the third person with an eidetic memory that I have had the opportunity to interview, but you are by far the most impressive!"

Shawn grinned and preened, all thought of creepiness forgotten.

"Were you aware that the vast majority of people with this ability lose it well before puberty?"

Shawn was. His mother, the psychologist – who also happened to have an eidetic memory, albeit tonal rather than complete like Shawn's – had taught him quite a bit about the skill they shared. But – mostly in search of more praise – he denied having the knowledge. "Really?"

"Yours is incredibly well developed! Remind me never to let you see anything I'd like to keep private!"

They both laughed.

Every once in a while, Mallow would try to surprise him with a random question. "Who was sitting on the bench outside when we walked up?" or "What color were the cars in the parking lot?" Always something that the doctor had noted, but to which Shawn had no reason to pay any attention. But Shawn always remembered.

After a couple hours, the doctor suggested they take a break. "So have you ever met anyone else that has this gift?" he asked.

"Um… no one that I know of." Shawn wasn't sure why he was lying. There was no reason to. But something in his gut was telling him to keep the knowledge of his mom's not-secret-at-all gift to himself. Or maybe that was just the years of lying about his own gift rubbing off on hers.

"Well, it is quite rare, but you're sure you've never encountered anyone else like you?" Mallow asked.

Shawn thought about it. It was silly, really. He could think of no rational reason not to tell the doc. No reason at all. This guy had been nothing but nice to – not to mention generous with him. Why was he suspicious?

He was about to say, 'actually, my mom has it,' when Mallow asked an even stranger question. "Who has done research on your memory in the past?"

"Researched my mem…" Shawn frowned, convinced now that there was something wrong. "What research are you talking about?"

But Mallow's intense gaze was suddenly gone, replaced by his usual pleasant smile. "Never mind me! It's like I said, I get too worried about other researchers." He handed Shawn a water bottle. "That's probably enough for today, don't you think? I think we both need a break." And he laughed dismissively.

Shawn twisted off the top of the bottle and took a long drink of water while he thought about what Mallow had said. The creepy factor was back and it was quickly climbing to the top of the scale. There was definitely something off about this guy. He and Gus were going to have to look deeper into this guy's background. Maybe he'd ask Jules for help when she got back. Being fascinated with memory was one thing but…

He suddenly began to feel a little woozy.

That was odd.

Shawn glanced at the bottle of water in his hand. Mallow didn't… he wouldn't… why would he? But the wooziness quickly became downright dizziness. Shawn blinked.

He looked over at Mallow, who was watching him with an oddly expectant face. "We shouldn't keep secrets from one another, Shawn," he whispered. Then he shook his head, clearly disappointed.

Shawn shook his own head almost as an echo, his vision suddenly wonky.

His tongue felt twice its normal size, and his ears were numb.

Then he knew. "You… drugged… me…"

And the last thing he saw was Mallow smiling in a way that wasn't friendly at all.

TBC…