Hey guys! It's been awhile…

I want to apologize first for the wait—it's my summer vacation and I have been traveling all over the place. And somehow this turned into a story with three chapters, so I've been sort of winging it. Anyway, I've been working on August Novel Writing Month and decided take a break from my main story and finish this up.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Psych is not mine, and never will be.

Shawn's heart beat painfully as another bush rustled. It's just the wind, he told himself for the hundredth time. Just the wind…

After his phone call with Lassiter his phone had died, and it now lay useless on the ground. In a way, it was like losing his only firm attachment to life. Now he was on his own, at the mercy of time and circumstance. His nose had slowed its bleeding somewhat, but the coppery taste was still in his mouth. Over the course of the phone call his shoulder had gone completely numb, and he was sure that wasn't a good sign. As he pushed himself further down against the bush, pain washed over him. He closed his eyes.

The first thing that jerked him out of his stupor was a distant call.

"Spencer? Spencer! Where are you?"

The second thing was a gunshot and a spray of soil somewhere near his feet.

He jerked his eyes open and threw himself instinctively to the right. In the open space he had so feared before, one of the men from the house was advancing menacingly, gun in hand. Shawn had just enough to roll to the side again before a second bullet whizzed past his ear into the bush.

"Lassie!" he called desperately, waving his arms and risking a glance over his shoulder to see if the detective was anywhere in sight. "Over here!"

The move cost him. A fierce pain erupted in his upper arm as a third bullet grazed it. He yelled and pulled his arm to his chest, thus causing an agonizing pain in his once-numb shoulder.

Zig zag. A straight line is the shortest distance between you and your attacker.

Don't just stand there.

Another shot fired and Shawn set off in a panic toward the road. It figured, he was met with another gun on his other side.

He had a moment of mind numbing panic until he recognized Lassiter's face behind the gun. Content to let the two men shoot at each other to their hearts' content, he dropped to the ground.

"Freeze! SBPD!"

"Just shoot 'im, Lassie," Shawn mumbled.

At that moment a car came screeching to a halt just down the road. For a sickening moment Shawn thought it was the car that had been sent to hunt him down, and knew that Lassiter wouldn't stand a chance against all of the criminals no matter how trigger friendly he was. The two of them were going to end up dead on the side of the road, ten minutes from a residential neighborhood…

Then he got a look at the car, saw the flashing red and blue lights, and watched as two more cops sprang out, already pulling out their guns.

He turned around and saw the criminal pause, weighing his chances against three armed cops. Clearly deciding it was a lost cause, the guy turned with a look of frustration and took off in the other direction. The two cops who had just emerged from the vehicle ran off in pursuit. Shawn raised a fist weakly to fist bump them as they ran past him, but they didn't acknowledge him.

"Lassie?" he offered, fist still raised. However, before the detective could reach him, gravity seemed to pitch him forward and he fell from his kneeling position on to his uninjured arm. The world spun around him.

"Spencer! Are you hurt?"

"When did I get on the teacup ride?" Shawn said, trying to orient himself. "And, more importantly, when did I get to Disneyland? I thought it was supposed to be the happiest place on Earth…" He hissed as Lassiter took his injured arm and inspected the wound the bullet had made.

"It's not deep," the detective said.

"If you're looking for problems with me, I still can't feel my shoulder," Shawn said vaguely, focusing in on the world a little more as Lassiter put pressure on his bleeding arm.

Lassiter took a brief glance at Shawn's shoulder. "Probably dislocated," he said. His eyes searched the rest of the psychic, apparently looking for any further injuries. "My God, Spencer, what happened to you?"

"You know, the usual," Shawn said with a one-armed shrug. "Kidnapped by lunatics for knowing too much. Daring escape attempt. Perfect hair and a constant craving for a pineapple smoothie. Which is still applicable, I'll have you know."

Lassiter shook his head. The faint sound of the ambulance sirens began to reach them. "How in the name of justice do you always get yourself into these situations?"

Shawn smiled wryly. "Habit, I suppose."

Thank you for all the feedback and thanks to everyone who has followed this story! Reviews are very welcome. So long until the next story!

~Penn