Author's Note: I thank my beta, Redwolffclaw for all of her help.

Disclaimer: The Characters from Psych are property of NBC/Universal, I do not own any of them.

Two days had passed since all had happened, the wedding and Jules figuring out he wasn't actually psychic. He still felt like shit, perhaps worse. Overwhelming exhaustion was the only way it could be described. Perhaps it was a symptom of depression? Maybe it was because he was still hung over? Would being unhappy account for being completely wiped out by something as simple as sweeping the floor? Would it account for feeling like the act of walking from the Blueberry to the Psych office had been a marathon?

Could this have been the result the minor concussion after the cab he was in stopped short? Having almost been stabbed by the Swedish Nanny? Having almost been hit by a truck while investing what happened to her? Was he actually hit by a truck? Perhaps he was getting Chief Vick's cold? Did she have a cold, or had that been part of one of the strange dreams he had been having?

It was getting hard to tell what had actually happened, and what he simply thought up in his post concussive mind. Everything was a blur. Thinking about it, he had spent most of the past few days and nights sleeping on couches, the one in the Psych office that he was laying down on right now, and the one at Gus's. Everything was a strange fog.

He had even been feeling yucky the day of Lassie's wedding, at the Agua Verde Hotel and Casino. While Lassie was catching Herb Pollack, and Gus was trying to contact Rachel, he found himself nodding off on a slot machine.

Was it better to have everything in a weird fog than to face it? There was just too much on his plate right now between his break up with Jules, moving out of her house, and worrying that she might tell people his secret about not really being psychic.

He changed his position on the couch, and inhaled, but had a strange sensation that he wasn't getting enough air, no matter how deeply he attempted to breathe. He closed his eyes and laid back on the couch. The radio which was tuned to the local top 40 station, was playing that annoying Jason Mraz song about kids with cancer, or was it heart disease?

Well then something on the surface it stings. Something on the surface, well it kind of makes me nervous.

He adjusted the big pillow and hugged it tightly to his sternum, the sensitive area that prevented him from buying t-shirts with v-necks. Whenever people asked about it, he would simply come up with an excuse, when he was seven a cat scratched him, he tried to imitate a sword swallower and failed, or that Freddie Kruger almost got him. It was from when he was seven; at least that part was true. Excuses were bad; telling lies was bad. Look what it did for his relationship.

I won't worry my life away, I won't worry my life away.

He worried if Julies would ever take him back. He couldn't remember if she seemed to care when he was almost stabbed, again. Was she gone for good? Would she ever forgive him? His phone rang; he hoped it was her but when he saw it was his father, he simply pressed ignore on the screen. He was just too tired and worn out to carry on a conversation with anyone right now, especially his father. It didn't help that his father would probably just bother him for telling Jules he wasn't psychic.

The tragedy is that you are going to spend the rest of your nights with the lights on

He continued hugging the pillow tightly to his chest as he coughed. From when he was young he was told when coughing or sneezing, keep the pillow there, and keep it tightly there, just in case. Bracing was important for that area. After all these years he still feared that if he coughed or sneezed without holding a pillow to his chest his sternum would break causing his heart and lungs to pop out. From what he could remember, it was known as dehiscence, the re-opening of a surgical scar after surgery. The closed area opens, and out comes blood and internal organs Having that happen would be nasty, gross, and probably kind of cool.

It all amounts to nothing in the end, I won't worry my life away...

Gus turn that off," he hollered, which took most of the energy he had at the moment.

"You look like something off The Walking Dead," Gus replied, "and you have been on that couch all day. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, if it is a concussion it is minor." Truth be told, right now he simply couldn't afford to get sick. Having his appendix out set his dad back too much, even though the blow wouldn't as bad now that Gus insisted on him buying a medical insurance policy. But at the moment there was too much to lose with Jules knowing his secret on top of everything else. None of this could have been helping with his dad who was still recovering from being shot.

Thinking back to having his appendix out, maybe things would have been cheaper if his dad had not insisted on his being on the telemetry unit. Pain medication probably cost less than having the octopus suckers and things all over him. And he didn't need any of that, he was fine. There were no issues, nothing to worry about. Whatever happened, happened almost thirty years ago, ancient history. E.T had phoned home. Elliott had probably long since forgotten about ET and that whole ordeal. Had he? The connection the two of them had when ET had gotten sick, making Elliott sick as well. Poor ET, died, turned white, and had to be stuffed into a box resembling a refrigerator waiting to be dissected. Elliott survived.

1984

"Congratulations, Shawn, you've graduated the ICU, and now you get to be on the pediatric cardiology unit," said the nurse as she wheeled him into the room. "And this is your new roommate, Danny," she said glancing at a brown haired boy on the other bed next to him. "Don't be afraid of Danny, he doesn't talk much, but he just had his heart operated on just like you." The boy had blond hair and pleasant a smile on his face, as he watched the TV above which was showing Masters of the Universe. Shawn commented "I just got castle Grayskull for Christmas."

"I am Skeletor," said the boy, who was supposed to be quiet, his voice sounded scary, but he was talking into something.

"Snake Mountain, cool," responded Shawn, this kid had the best toy ever, Masters of the Universe Snake Mountain. Not only was it a mountain, but it was a mountain that you could make talk in a scary voice. This wasn't going to be so bad.

Danny's eyes seemed to roll back into his head, and he suddenly got quiet.

"Danny, Danny, wake up," Shawn screamed as the machine his roommate was hooked up to went from a series of steady beeps, to one long beep. A nurse walked in, and shouted "he is arresting," From the nurse's station in the hallway, he heard a loudspeaker saying Code Blue room 221, as a bunch of nurses, doctors, and other people came in. Even though they closed a curtain around Danny's bed, he could still hear all that was going on.

"Danny," Shawn continued to scream, his own beeping machine getting faster, "charging to 350, clear," he heard the doctor say, "still no response."

A nurse came out from the curtain, "we should get this one out of here, or do something. His pulse rate has gone up to 132 and his pressure is 120/80." He suddenly felt calmer as he saw the nurse playing with his IV. He could hear from behind the curtain, "time of death, 4:45 PM." A few minutes later they closed the curtain around his own bed. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep as he heard them rolling his friend out of the room. He could see from an area where the curtain wasn't completely closed that a blanket was over Danny's head. No more monitors were connected to him. Soon, his father would be telling him some story about how Danny was discharged, but he knew that wasn't true.

"Time to get up," insisted Gus. "We should go by Juliet's place and pick up your stuff, she will be back in a few hours, so we have time now."

"Just a few more minutes," responded Shawn.

Gus handed him his sneakers, "don't procrastinate and put these on."

Shawn took the sneakers, but something strange happened, for some reason they didn't fit. His feet were too swollen to get them on.

"What the fuck," gasped Gus his tone a lot more serious. His face conveyed a look of fear and concern, "do you know what swollen ankles means? When you spent the night watching that woman in the hospital did they really check you out?"

Shawn put his hand out to stop him, "Gus, don't be Skittles CGI'ed where there should be Reeses Pieces, its nothing. If I go to the hospital they will just run a bunch of useless tests, which will worry my dad. He has enough on his plate after being shot, I'm fine." He tried to get up, "just need a minute to catch my breath," he said before he collapsed to the floor unconscious.