AN: I do not own Psych, which—on top of the cold/pneumonia thing I've got going on—sucks.

Surprise! I have an update! Whaaat?! ;-) Thank you all so much for not only your support, but also your patience. My apologies for the long wait.

Many, many thanks to my beta for this chapter who lent her expertise despite how very busy she is. You are wonderful.

For all his attempts at hiding it, Shawn was not a simple man. She'd almost fooled herself into believing he was when she'd first met him; but she'd quickly realized what a mistake that assumption was the more she got to know him. Most people who met him held the perception that he was immature and would subsequently write him off without a second thought. Shawn was immature; Juliet wouldn't deny that. Immature and selfish and proud; brazen and sarcastic and completely unconcerned with others' opinions. But he was also funny and caring and loving and more concerned with others' well-being than his own. And, at the most unexpected times, when he was with her and her only—shy. Shy and gentle and tender.

For someone most assumed had a flat personality, he held a wealth of emotions that Juliet so loved to study.

Happiness was shown with his bickering with Gus, his needling of Lassiter, and his soft smile as he and Juliet talked. His eyes sparkled with his giddiness and his motions were exuberant, lighter, as if a burden had been removed from his shoulders. Sometimes, however, his happiness was shown with his complacency—his inability to let Juliet escape the arms he had wrapped around her, his shoulder bumping against his dad's as they sat on the beach to watch the sunset, or his nestling on the couch as he and Gus started a movie marathon.

Anger was shown in quiet stillness or quick movement; in soft, monotonous words or with a sharp tongue; with a sarcastic offering of fake-friendliness or outright hostility. There was nothing more chilling or unsettling than seeing him smile and not having that expression reach his eyes.

His exhaustion was sometimes shown in the rambling of words that ranged from what he had snacked on to what he really wanted in life—from boyish excitement to mature musings. Other times, his silence and sluggish movements tattled on his weariness. She could spend hours detailing how his eyes flared with a certain emotion, how his mouth pinched when he was tired or his hands trembled when he was in pain, how he acted out when he was uncomfortable, what his voice sounded like when he was happy, sad, angry, tired, sarcastic...

She considered herself one of three experts on the man, and still she found herself struggling to really understand him. Those emotions and characteristics that she could read were only truly transparent whenever he let his guard down, and that was only when he was with the people he trusted. He was only real with them. Whenever he wanted to be, however, he was nothing but smoke and mirrors. He could cover one emotion with another, was an expert at hiding one motivation with a flurry of activity that drew attention elsewhere.

Case in point: she'd seen the aftereffects of a house trashed by Shawn when his father had been shot. She had seen the anger and grief in his actions, and she knew exhaustion had also led to his lack of restraint. Shawn himself had admitted to those reasons, which had just confirmed the signs Juliet had easily read; the tremble in his fingers, the hard blinks, the edgy movements that were nowhere near his usual smoothness... She didn't realize until much later that he had used those excuses to hide his true motivations for destroying Jerry Carp's valuables—to search the man's house for clues as to where he might be in hiding.

So today, when he'd started acting strangely, first at the station and then at his father's house that evening, she'd detected grief and anger, uncertainty and vulnerability, and the weariness that had tainted him since...since. She could only predict the reasoning behind it—the return of a monster. Watching him throughout the day, however, she couldn't help but feel as though she was still missing something...

She had had little difficulty getting back to the level of affection they had shown before Shawn's secret came out. Her issues had been worked through quickly and thoroughly while she watched, helpless, as Cole tried to break the man she would marry. While the certainty of her feelings was strengthened, however, Shawn's own was weakened. She knew he still loved her; but Cole had made him doubt her love for him and his worthiness of those feelings.

He'd been awkward and uncertain around her since then, still questioning their places with each other, and Juliet had taken the lead. She grabbed his hand as they walked side-by-side; she lifted his arm and burrowed into his side. She leaned in for kisses and trailed her hands across his shoulders whenever she could; until he'd started to initiate the caresses and gestures that had once been second nature to him. They were better, but Juliet was still unable to break through whatever was keeping him just a shade distant from her.

But this—this hesitation that she had slowly realized throughout the day was directed only towards her—was something more. Juliet had watched him, a permanent furrow between her eyebrows that she tried to smooth whenever he glanced her way. She'd even pulled him aside after lunch to ask how he was, watching carefully for any sign that he was hiding something from her. He'd told her he was fine and then waved his hand back in the direction of the squad room.

"Just…"he'd said, trailing off as he'd searched for words that wouldn't come, and she'd nodded her understanding. She could accept that, but she'd needed to make sure.

"Is that all?" She'd pressed, and he'd tilted his head.

"Isn't that enough?"

It wasn't an answer, not one she could work with at least. They'd been interrupted before she could dig any deeper, and she'd watched as he'd made his way back to the squad room and the pictures of the crime scene victims that reminded her so much of Shawn in Cole's clutches. As they were meant to.

The rest of the day had been spent working side by side, completely focused on the case, and when she'd arrived at Henry's for dinner, Shawn had greeted her with a quick kiss. They'd sat next to each other and chatted as a group after Shawn finished venting his frustration over the stipulations Gus and Henry had demanded before accepting their police protection. Yet there'd been a strained awkwardness between them all day despite their concentration on the case, and when they sat next to each other at dinner, he didn't lean closer to her. He didn't brush her arm or rest his arm on the back of the chair for her to slide into his side. It was one step forward and two steps back—the little gestures of affection she'd worked so hard to help Shawn feel comfortable initiating again…gone.

She missed him. Missed his goofiness, his exuberant wooing, his serious affection. She missed him. She wanted him back and something had happened, recently, to spread even further the rift between them she had been trying, and failing, to heal. She was desperate to help him, desperate to fix him, but she didn't know what had happened to lead to his latest withdrawal from her. Whatever the reason, she was determined to push them past the issues she had had such a hand in creating.

The evening at Henry's had been a welcome break from the tension that had filled Juliet's day. There was something about being surrounded by a group of friends and soon-to-be family that created a stable and calm atmosphere that she reveled in. It cleared her mind, helped her to relax—just a little—and Shawn, too, if the way he'd finally settled into the deep cushions of the couch late that evening had been any indication.

They had deliberately steered clear of the case until after dinner, a wise decision on Henry's part, Juliet thought. She'd taken the liberty, when that particular conversation had started, to nudge Shawn's arm until he lifted it. No matter what his new thought processes were regarding the both of them, he still pulled her closer to him, absently rubbing her arm, and Juliet sighed in relief.

It didn't escape her notice that Gus had been watching them from across the room the whole evening and that he had sighed, too. If she didn't find out from Shawn what was bothering him soon, she would go to his best friend.

She drove Shawn home that night, nodding at the officers who would be watching over Henry and following Gus home, and smiling at Buzz—Shawn's protection that night—as they strolled by his parked car. There would be no unmarked squad cars or undercover officers for this job; they wanted Cole to know they were already expecting him. He was not going to get to Shawn or any of his family.

She and Shawn both slid out of the car at the same time when she parked in his driveway, meeting at the front of the vehicle and walking slowly to his door. He turned to stare at her, licking his lips in a nervous gesture, his house keys dangling loosely in his hands after he unlocked the door. She placed a hand on his chest and tapped it once. "Wait here," she murmured, ignoring the way his mouth pinched as she took out her gun and stepped into his house. She cleared it quickly and carefully, willing to risk Shawn's irritation so long as she knew he was safe.

He was leaning against the doorframe when she finished, his arms crossed and head tilted back—a sight that suddenly made her breath catch. "Clear," she said, taking the first step again and leaning up to kiss him gently on the lips. His posture was a little stiff, but his arms still circled her and pulled her in. She stood on tiptoe to deepen the kiss, her fingers tugging gently at the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands slowly traveled up and down her back, a soothing motion that she hummed at.

Pulling away was difficult for them both and she smiled at his reluctance to let her go. "I love you, Shawn Spencer."

He gave a half smile and brushed a thumb against her cheek. "I love you more than you will ever know, Juliet." He stepped into his house then, and she waited to hear the door lock before she walked away.

The furrow was back in full force as she got into her car and drove off. For as much as she loved hearing his declaration back to her, there was also something very wrong about that statement. Something that had been missing ever since the first time he had asked for her forgiveness when he woke up in the hospital.

Jules.

He didn't call her Jules anymore, and she had no one to blame but herself.

"You never told me! After all this time, how could you not tell me the truth?"

"I wanted to! I just didn't want to hurt you! And I was trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?!"

"I was going to tell you, I was just trying to find a way. And until I did, at least you wouldn't know. You wouldn't be charged with anything if my secret came out."

"How thoughtful." The words were as spiteful as she meant them to be and she took a dark satisfaction when Shawn flinched at the venom in her voice.

"Please, Jules-"

"Don't call me that." The words were flat, emotionless. The distance she was trying to place between them widened immediately; they could both sense it.

Shawn's head snapped back in shock. "Please…" He pleaded with her, shaking his head slowly; but she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Leave, Shawn. Now."

It was just a simple nickname, but with Shawn it meant so much more. Jules. It had meant coworker first, friend next, then girlfriend, and then soul mate—the whole story wrapped up in one little name—and she didn't know how to get it back.

"How was your secret exposed?"

The knife was starting to dig in and Shawn sucked in a breath.

"I was careless," he shot out.

The knife moved away and Shawn sighed.

"Careless how?"

Shawn's head drooped as he continued. "I was on the phone, and I said I wasn't…wasn't psychic. And Jules…Juliet heard me."

"And then what?"

"We argued; she decided to tell the Chief. The end."

With the recognition of yet another issue she and Shawn needed to work out came the daunting realization of the tasks still left to overcome; because this problem? This problem alone had roots in several issues she was nowhere close to healing.

…

Buzz McNab took his job seriously. Very seriously. After all, Detective Lassiter was his role model—the man was a legend in law enforcement—and Buzz didn't want to let him down. Before he'd even met the Detective, however, the job had always been important to him for a very simple reason. Justice. He had always had a strong sense of right and wrong, and being an officer gave him the tools to make sure right won out over wrong. The job he considered his privilege enabled him to combine his strong sense of duty with his compassion—the latter a trait that could quickly become tarnished with the dark side of humanity his chosen career put him in contact with.

As much as the Detective was his role model, however, Buzz knew he would never be like the man. They were too different. Detective Lassiter's mind was ruled by black and white, while Buzz saw white, off white, grey, black, and a whole suite of other colors. As such, motivations were a key factor in Buzz's labeling of the criminals and suspects he crossed paths with as: "very bad guy," "bad guy with good intentions," "good guy with less than honorable intent," and "misunderstood good guy."

His decisions on such a label were usually quick and spot-on. Shawn Spencer was the only one who threw him for a loop. The psychic, pardon him, fake psychic was a good friend of Buzz's. The man had even saved his life! He was funny, kind, and good at his job. When they had first met and Shawn had divined Buzz's upcoming marriage, he'd won Buzz over hook, line, and sinker. The man had proven his gift over and over in the years since, and for Buzz to find out he had been lying, that Shawn wasn't really psychic…well, Buzz was confused.

Very confused.

Bad: Shawn had lied. To the public Buzz would defend with his life, to the police station that held Buzz's same loyalty, and to his friends—which Buzz had considered himself to be.

Good: At the same time, Shawn had solved countless cases, saving people and putting dangerous criminals behind bars.

What was Shawn? He had scratched out his first two options immediately. He knew Shawn. Not as well as he had thought, but he still knew his character. So then…the good guy with a less than honorable intent? He did get paid for solving cases, after all. Or was it something else? Was he the misunderstood good guy?

Buzz had struggled with Shawn's lies until he finally made up his mind, and it was before he saw the video of Shawn being tortured in the cabin: misunderstood good guy with good intentions and less than honorable means to achieve them. A new label, a new color. Unfortunately, he didn't come to his revelation until after Shawn had left the station that last time and before Cole had made his move, which hadn't helped his friend any. His support for Shawn hadn't mattered, because Shawn hadn't known about it.

And so Buzz's guilt over taking so long to make up his mind inspired him to do whatever he could to support Shawn now and was an important motivation for Buzz being the first to volunteer for Shawn's newly reinstated security detail. His wife had understood the reason for his new duties and the short notice for his overtime and she couldn't be more supportive. It was yet another reason for him to be madly in love with her.

Shawn's front door suddenly opening at 1:24 in the morning made Buzz sit up a little straighter and put the car in gear. His friend's penchant for running had taken Buzz by surprise—Shawn didn't seem the type to like that kind of physical exertion, after all. Towards the end of his previous security detail, however, Buzz had clocked Shawn going out two to three times each week.

It was a puzzle that Buzz took apart in the boring hours of his watch, and one he thought he had finally figured out. Especially one night, when Shawn had pushed himself so hard he'd fallen to his hands and knees. His gasping breaths had almost masked the sound of his grief. Hovering at a distance, however, Buzz had heard. Heard and fidgeted uncomfortably, torn between trying to comfort his friend and offering him the space Buzz felt he so desperately needed.

His confusion over Shawn's new habit had cleared that night.

His ways of coping were less strenuous than Shawn's: knitting and baking with his wife and visiting the orphanage; but despite the horrors of Buzz's own experiences, Shawn had faced something much more violent and terrifying than Buzz ever had and prayed he never would. He had a feeling Shawn's reasons for his late-night jogs were less about coping and more about escaping; but that belief could just be from the influence of the psychology classes he'd recently taken.

Buzz followed Shawn as he wound his way from his house to the nearest stretch of beach, worry notching up a little higher the closer they got to Shawn's destination. He had learned in a short time to gauge Shawn's moods by how hard and fast he ran, and tonight's pace had started in a fast jog that was now heading into a desperate sprint.

Buzz stopped the car in frustration when he hit the shore, getting out quickly and preparing to continue on foot when Shawn's steps finally slowed. Buzz watched as he veered off the path and towards the surf where he came to a stop, bending over to rest his arms on his legs to catch his breath. Leaning against the car instead, Buzz scanned the surrounding area for any potential threats, noting when Shawn straightened from his crouched position and simply stood, staring out over the water. The surf crashed a little closer to his feet with each wave, but Shawn didn't flinch, didn't take a step back; just stood still as he continued to watch something Buzz could not see.

It was going to be one of those nights then.

Buzz kept watch over him and the area, counting the cars that passed on the road nearby as a way to pass time, his mind torn between his surveillance and his musings over Shawn's thoughts. His curiosity over Shawn's sightless gaze was always curbed with the realization that he probably didn't want to know whatever it was his friend saw. When Shawn finally moved, Buzz straightened and stretched out a kink in his back as he waited for the other man to walk towards him.

Shawn didn't meet his eyes when he reached Buzz, just leaned on the squad car beside him with a sigh. "I didn't want you guys to follow me again," he said softly.

That was an understatement. Buzz had been nearby when the Chief had told Shawn her plans and the other man had not handled the news well at all.

"I don't want the protection."

Shawn's irritated voice floated out of the Chief's office, and Buzz turned to look in surprise. He'd been witness to Shawn's outburst towards Gus in the car earlier that day and he hoped the other man wasn't going to lash out again, especially towards the Chief.

"Shawn, Cole's back. I know you believe he won't come after you right now, but I'm not willing to take that chance." The Chief stood behind her desk when Shawn pushed to his feet.

"I refuse it. Give it to my father and Gus," he responded as he turned to leave the room.

"I can't."

Shawn froze at her words and Buzz took a step forward, nervous as he saw the other man's eyes narrow in anger. The former psychic spun around, hands clenching and unclenching at his side.

"Can't, or won't?"

His low voice just barely reached Buzz's ears and he took another step forward, looking between the two in concern, straining his hearing.

"Can't. I offered it to them, Shawn, but your father and Mr. Guster have refused; unless…" She trailed off, looking at the younger man and waiting for him to fill in the missing detail. Buzz frowned in confusion, not grasping what the Chief was implying.

Shawn, however, understood within moments. "Unless I accept it first," he said, shoving a hand through his hair, the movement jerky with anger. At the Chief's nod, Shawn swore, and she held her hands up to stall him.

"If you do, I promise to make sure they are safe, too."

Shawn paced her office, face creased with fury. "Fine," he said, pursing his lips as Gus walked into the office. "I accept it." He shoved a chair out of his way as he strode from her office, glaring at Gus as he stalked past him.

A glance in the Chief's direction and Buzz followed Shawn at her nod.

"I uh…can't really apologize for doing this, Shawn. If it keeps you safe…" he trailed off awkwardly, glancing at Shawn out of the corner of his eye and away again.

A hum, a fidget, and Shawn spoke again, seemingly unwilling to sit in silence. "So…what's…new, Buzz?"

Buzz smiled, latching onto the topic in relief as he turned to face the other man. "I'm going to try for detective again."

"Oh yeah?" Shawn turned to smile at him, too, and Buzz didn't comment on how strained the look was.

"Yup. Even took a few extra psychology classes, sat in a few seminars for forensic science, too. Francine and I were talking and thought it would look good on my record."

Shawn nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah it will."

They fell in silence again, and Buzz rubbed his hands against his legs nervously. What else could he say? He had several questions he wanted to ask Shawn, like: what was it that drove him out of his house several times a week for a run? Why didn't he want the protection? And just what was it that had set Shawn off the morning before during the faux-burglary case?

None of those were questions he could ask, though. No; Buzz had a role to play, and being Shawn's confidant or the curious interloper who dug into Shawn' psyche was not it. He was the "bumbling" officer trying to become a detective, the man with the uncanny ability to see the best in humankind. He chose to believe all men were innocent until proven guilty because he'd seen how the job had affected his father and he refused to turn into a jaded, hard-nosed officer like his old man. That was his role, and he accepted it with relish.

So instead of continuing the conversation with talk of how he was working to become a detective, instead of asking any questions that would make Shawn uncomfortable, he talked about the new recipe he'd made with his wife. And when that topic was exhausted, he moved on to the latest patterns he'd tried to knit, how his little boy (girl) cat had gotten another healthy bill from the veterinarian, and his plans for the garden he was going to plant soon.

When Shawn's next smile came a little easier, Buzz grinned in triumph.