A/N So it has been a while since I posted anything - usual reasons - life and a massive case of writers block. I have been really struggling with the sequel to my last Merlin story and for a while gave up writing and concentrated on beta reading. I love Psych but have never written for it so I thought it might actually be fun to do...and that perhaps it would help with my block. This is the first time I have written for this fandom...and actually the first time I have written for an American show and one set in the 21st Century so this is quite out there for me. So please be gentle!

I really hope that you enjoy this story; I have to say I did really enjoy writing it so if nothing else I think it has helped me get my mojo back!

Usual disclaimer...I own nothing and no-one to do with Psych.

Chapter 1

"Nah, that just doesn't seem right" Shawn thought to himself as he looked at the scene around him. Not exactly sure what it was that was wrong he forced himself to open his both his eyes (why that such a difficult task was a question he decided to shelve for later) and have another look. It was just the office; with desks, lots of empty pineapple smoothie cups and the T.V. So what was it that was so "off" about it?

Okay, so perhaps the room should not be moving around as much as it seemed to and it definitely should not be going in and out of focus quite so often. But that was not what was bothering him. "Though come to think of it" he mused "that is a bit strange." Just another thing to think about later; when he had solved this first mystery...as long as he could keep his damn eyes open.

"Okay, just stop and think and look; it's what you are good at" Shawn castigated himself; "Ignore the fact that you are tired and see what you can see." He breathed deeply - should it actually hurt that much to breath? He'd never had problems with it before...not important now...what is important is the room. He had to solve it before Gus came; no solving equals no fist bumps...and Shawn did love his fist bumps. Forcing his eyes to re-open he looked around.

Finally it came to him.

"Upside down...it is all upside down. That is so cool..." and indeed (now he made sense of what his eyes had been telling his brain) everything in the room was the wrong way up.

"Fantastic." Thoughts began to fly around his brain at incredible speed "I've finally developed my superpowers; wait 'til Gus hears I can walk on the ceiling...or perhaps it's because gravity has stopped working and we can all float around; how awesome would that be...except my pineapple smoothie would float out of the cup...so not so cool then...where is Gus anyway...didn't we have something to do...something that did not involve turning the world the wrong way up and me being so damn tired...perhaps if I close my eyes for a bit things will go back the way they should be...perhaps Gus will come and tell me what the heck is going on..." His mind rambled away by itself; random thoughts running around his brain. "Wow, thinking is tiring...need to practice more...a nap and I'll be fine..."

As his eyes began to close for the third time in as many minutes one more detail (something just in the periphery of his vision) struck Shawn. There did seem to be an awful lot of some kind of liquid pooling on the floor above him. It was red. Very red; he forced his drooping lids to stay half open and stared at the offending pool.

"What is red and liquidly? Is liquidly even a word? What was I thinking about – oh, the stuff on the floor... Blood, its blood." Shawn looked again at the rapidly increasing mess "Huh, someone must be bleeding pretty badly" he thought as his eyelids gave up the battle and the darkness came "I wonder who is hurt?"

XXX

He opened his eyes once more a few minutes later. And God would he have given anything to be able to shut them again but for some reason his traitorous body just seemed to want to keep him awake and aware. Things had changed; he was no longer alone in the Psych office. He could see two pairs of legs, one wearing jeans and the other a very nasty pair of sweat pants. And they were both standing upside down really close to him. It did not feel good. For some reason he could not put a finger on he just knew they were not there to make friends; and sadly he was right in this instinct.

"Okay, we've moved the van and now we just need to move him." The smarter legged one said.

"I don't get it, why don't we just kill him here? It wouldn't take much." Dirty sweat pants guy was speaking now and he sounded annoyed and somewhat sulky.

"Because we've been told not to, okay? Let's just get him in the back of the van and get out of here quickly. Before whoever he was on the phone to actually turns up. I'll grab him, you right the place a bit, move the desk to cover the blood. We might get more time to get away if we make it look like nothing has happened."

Some hands reached down. Or should that be up? Really, Shawn was beginning to find all this upside down stuff a bit complicated. Either way the first guy had grabbed hold of him and dragged him up...ah, he thought as the World suddenly righted itself. Shawn looked back down at the desk that he must have somehow half fallen over; his body hanging down one side; his position explaining his mixed up view of the World.

"It was me who was upside down," he managed to think "not the office."

For a moment he was disappointed – it would have been cool to be able to walk up walls like Spidey. But then the pain hit and he caught sight of his blood covered shirt and all other thoughts left his mind. Except for the one that came to him as he was being unceremoniously bundled out of the office and callously dumped into the back of a van.

"Ok, so now I know who was hurt. Me. Damn."

With that realisation his body finally gave up and took pity on him and he slid quietly away.

XXX

Gus was fuming. No, cancel that – he was way past fuming and onto incandescent with rage. Once again he had been dragged away from his proper job; responding to a call from Shawn asking, no demanding, that he get to Psych's office. Shawn's voice continued to whine in his head...

"As fast as a speeding zebra...are they fast?...if not then as fast as a speeding zebra on speed...either way Gus just get here." Then there had been a 30 second pause before Gus heard the cryptic ending of the message "Fuzzy edges man, fuzzy edges... Life or death pal; life or death."

And, like some kind of world class fool, he had come. Admittedly he had made a stop on the way to grab some food and he may have delayed a little; flirting with the brunette who worked at the diner. But he was not at Shawn's beck and call all the time and sometimes the egomaniac needed to be reminded of that.

And as it was Gus was glad he had not rushed. Because what had he found when he got there?

A big, fat, idiotic, gullible nothing.

No motorcycle; no Shawn; no life or death struggle involving big, dumb, muscle bound guys or smart, gun wielding psychopaths. Just the door left unlocked and a pile of unopened mail on the mat.

Sighing Gus leant down, picked up the post and walked slowly into the main office; shoulders hunched and tense; unable to really believe he had fallen for Shawn's irresponsible behaviour yet again. Given the years they had known each other you would think he would have learned how to resist; but no.

"Every damn time Shawn; every damn time." Gus muttered to himself as he made towards the desk. Perching on the edge he cast a cursory glance at the handful of letters he was still holding – bills mostly. "Probably for glass blowing lessons or rhinoceros rides at the zoo. God forbid we should spend what little money we've got on unimportant things like electricity or rent." Still, he relented, that weekend 80's film festival they had just gone on was awesome. And with a little creativity, might even be tax deductable as research.

Pondering that possibility Gus stood up to go and make a coffee whilst he waited for Shawn and in doing so he dropped the mail. Cursing under his breath he bent down to pick it up. One envelope had slid under the desk so, with a disgruntled sigh, he got onto his hands and knees and crawled under it. He nearly gagged at the mess under Shawn's desk. God, this was going to get his new cream khakis filthy. Grabbing the offending letter, and some other pieces of paper he vaguely recognised, Gus backed out again and stood up.

Aware of how long it had been since the offices had been cleaned – if indeed they ever had been - Gus was not looking forward to seeing what state his very expensive new pants were going to be in. As he put the letter and papers safely down on the desk he used his other hand to begin to wipe off any dust or left over breakfast burrito that had no doubt adhered itself to his pants.

"If I've got my pants dirty then you are paying for the dry cleaning Sha...what the heck?" As his hand brushed against the fabric he suddenly felt something wet, sticky and revolting. "What in the hell...this better not be something gross Shawn or I am going to rip..."

Red. Sticky red liquid. His hand was covered in a sticky red liquid. For a moment Gus's mind refused to accept what he knew this to be but as he slowly looked down at the crimson stain that spread across the knees of his pants he could not avoid it any longer. He knew full well what was even now covering his hand. Blood.

Vomit rose into his throat and he began to gag, but he knew he needed to see more. On the count of three he pushed the desk aside and finally got a clear look at what it had been hiding. Underneath it was a pool of blood. His mind registered the fact there was an awful lot of it. Gus shuddered as he remembered that Shawn had called him to come urgently. His friend was not here. But this pool of blood was. Brief sentences ran through his mind. "Shawn, no...blood, yes". He did not like the way this was heading. As Gus reached for his cell phone Shawn's message ran once more through his head.

"Life and death pal; life and death."

XXX