If the Rain Must Fall

Summery: Shawn didn't understand why they were trying to take him from her. He was just trying to make her wake up. (Minor Character Death.) (Short Oneshot.) (For Sarah.)

Note: This is for my friend Sarah, who was at a sleep-over-Psych-a-thon last night and we came up with an idea like this. We really wish it would be an episode (not what I wrote in particular, but the idea), because the emotional aspect is just so heart wrenching…but it most likely never will be, so I wrote this :D I hope you like it, Sare!

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych (Steve Franks) nor the lyrics in the beginning or in the title (James Morrison's 'If the Rain Must Fall'), I just like to use them for my enjoyment.

Enjoy!

--

But if the rain must fall, if I lose it all,
If the world comes down and takes my soul,
If the sky turns black, and there's no, no way back,
It won't matter much to me,
If I had you.

--

Shawn stared down at his hands. Why were they shaking? He was vaguely aware of someone saying his name, but he didn't bother to respond because he was way too intrigued by his hands. They were practically vibrating. Last thing he remembered was walking into the diner with Abigail at his side.

"Shawn." The voice was beside him, right beside him, but it was quite. It was soft. "Oh God, Shawn."

He didn't turn, but began whispering to himself. "Abigail," He mumbled, unsure of when she had left his side. "Abigail, why are my hands shaking?"

"Shawn." The voice wasn't Abigail's. "God…Shawn. Shawn, please, look at me."

He finally forced his stiff neck to turn to the left, where the voice was coming from. It was much more difficult than he remembered turning his head usually was. His eyes wouldn't focus, but he could see blond. He blinked a few times, his vision clearing as he felt something wet trail down his cheeks. "Jules?" He managed to croak out. "Where'd Abigail go?"

"Oh, God, he's bleeding pretty bad. Someone call a medic!" Why was she yelling? It just made his head hurt…

"Spencer?" Lassie? What the hell was he doing here? "Shawn. Look at me, damnit!" Shawn glanced up at the older man, he looked nothing short of horrified. Since when did Lassiter call him by his first name?

"Lassiter?" He asked, his voice still abnormally quiet.

"Shawn, what do you remember?"

"Remember?"

The detectives shared a glance that Shawn almost missed, despite the fact they were right in front of him. "Of the night, Shawn, do you—do you know what happened?"

"I was taking Abby to dinner…why are you guys here? Where did she go?" Shawn forced his neck to turn and he glanced around the empty diner. He stopped dead when he saw two cops Shawn knew but couldn't remember at the moment. They were standing over someone, blocking the face of whoever was lying on the ground. But he saw the still person's outfit, they were wearing a blue skirt, a white shirt.

Abigail.

She'd been wearing that outfit. His heart froze in his chest.

Standing in front of Abigail. Protecting her.

"Give me your wallets, damnit!"

"Why don't you put the gun down first?"

Words. Words. Words. What had they said? He couldn't even remember. He just remembered that moment. The moment he knew was going to be the last moment of his life…but how could it be if he was sitting here?

The gun shook in the panicked man's hand. His finger twitched and there was a flash, a bang. Pain seared across Shawn's right temple and he felt himself falling, falling, falling. What happened to Abigail?

"Shawn?"

"Oh God." He croaked, forcing his aching body to move he crawled forward. "Oh God, no, no, no." He found himself sobbing. "No, please." He got to the body and pushed one of the officers out of the way, not even noticing him there.

No. It couldn't be.

"Abigail?" He whispered, leaning down and taking his girlfriend's pale face in his hands, immediately getting them covered in the warm, sticky blood. "Abs, wake up." He begged, refusing to look at the tiny hole in her forehead. "Abby, please." He begged, his words fogging as he choked up. "Abby, open your eyes. Look at me. You're ok, come on."

"Shawn," Juliet whispered from behind him, he could feel her gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Abigail!" He screamed, shaking her a little.

"Shawn!" That was Lassiter, he could feel the older man grab his shoulders and pull him back. Despite the fact he was rather gentle with Shawn it felt like he was pulled by someone of abnormal strength. Why were they taking him from her? He was just trying to wake her up.

"Abby!" He screamed, as they pulled him back, "No, stop it! Abby! Just open your eyes and-and then they'll leave us alone!"

"Shawn," The head detective whispered gently, and had Shawn been in the right state of mind he might note that as abnormal, but at the moment all he wanted to do was get back to Abigail.

"Let go of me! Why won't you help me?? Abby!"

"Shawn!" Juliet grabbed him by either side of his head, forcing him to look at her and away from Abigail. "Look at me! Shawn! She's gone." Shawn shook his head, the tears falling freely.

"No, no. She's not. Just, just help me, Jules! She's not gone!"

Juliet shook her head, tears forming in her eyes, "They shot her Shawn, there's no way-" The blond stopped at that, unsure of what to say. Then it clicked.

The gun, it was shaking in the man's hand. Flash. Bang. Falling.

They had fired at him. They fired at Shawn. And they hit Abigail.

"No...no she's not...." Shawn's knees buckled. "Oh God, Abigail…" He moaned.

She was gone. Abigail was dead. And it was all his fault.

Unable to do anything else, he sank to the floor and wept.

--

A little confusing, meant to leave you wondering. That's the mind of a disturbed Shawn Spencer. Not my best work, but I hope you enjoyed!

-claire