Chapter Text
“Alright, Mr. Spencer.” The chief gestures at the girl sitting in the interrogation room. She’s young, maybe mid-twenties, with short curly hair like a black-and-white movies actress gathered around her cheeks like ginger clouds. “You have ten minutes.”
“All I need, Chief, and I’ll have time for a game of Eye Spy before I leave.”
“It’s I-Spy, Shawn.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said Eye Spy.”
“What difference are you hearing exactly, Gus?”
“A clear one!”
“I can’t do this with you right now. Chief, I’ll be back in less time than Lassie spends on his hair in the morning.”
“Hey!”
“You’re right Lassie, that isn’t fair, you’ve stepped up your game a lot in the last few years. Keep at it buddy. Someday, you’ll be on par with me. Or more likely just slightly below, because, well.” He chuckles and gestures at his own hair with a flippant gesture, and ducks out to the door of the interrogation room before Lassie fully processes the tangent.
He shakes himself loose and steps into the room, looking through the one-way glass and grinning straight at Lassie. He can’t see-see his friends on the other side, exactly, but he knows where they are and how they're moving. He really doesn’t get why every interrogation room has these ‘one-way windows’– or how there are people who can’t ‘see’ through them. Just another obvious thing that he’s the only one who picks up on, somehow.
He whirls around and smiles at the girl, who looks confused to say the least. “Hello. My name is Shawn Spencer, head psychic of the SBPD–”
The confusion turns into horror so quickly it leaves Shawn actually, physically reeling back. The girl puts her hands over her head and screams, pushing her chair away! “NO! NO NO NO! I WON’T TALK TO A PSYCHIC, NO!”
“Whoa, whoa, I’m not–!” Not what? Not psychic? He can’t finish his sentence with that. Not a ‘bad’ psychic? This girl obviously had some bad experiences in the past, he gets the feeling she won’t accept that claim, especially not from him. Not going to read her psychically? Then there’s no reason for The Chief to keep him on the case!
He doesn’t have to worry about that last part much longer, because Lassie storms in and grabs him by the bicep, dragging him out of the room and into the observation area again.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Lassie says. “Great job keeping the witness calm and cooperative, Spencer.”
“Really, Lassie? I didn’t even do anything but introduce myself! Clearly, she had encountered psychics with much less strong morality than I possess.” He ignores the looks Gus gives him at ‘strong morality’. “I can hardly be blamed for the poor behavior of my psychic brethren.”
“We can blame you for not ‘sensing’ that beforehand.”
“Lassie. You realize if you do that, you’re also saying you believe me?”
Lassie snaps his mouth shut, and then scowls. He points a finger in Shawn’s face, but no rebuttal comes out of his mouth. Instead he turns, barking for his partner to come down and join him on the interrogation.
“Well, it looks like your services are no longer–”
“Wait, wait, Chief. Listen, even if I can’t be in there to ask the questions, I can still read her from out here. Let me stay to watch, at least.”
“Well… fine. But given her strong, aversion to you, you are not to give any sign you are still here, understand? That means no… shouting questions at Lassiter and O’Hara, or barging in when they’re finally making progress, and no–”
“Interrupting?”
She levels him with an unamused glare. Shawn holds up his hands in surrender, but can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes him. The Chief just shakes her head, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and turns to leave. She passes Lassie and Jules on her way out, and Shawn and Gus settle into place to watch the interrogation.
“What do you think happened to her to make her react to you like that?” Gus whispers as Jules and Lassie sit down and introduce themselves.
“I dunno. Maybe scammed her?”
“Seems like a strong reaction for scamming.”
“Yeah… maybe Lassie and Jules will clear it up.”
Sure enough, after the main bit of questioning is over (the girl is nervous and fidgety the whole time, but Shawn clocks that her necklace is one of those chewable toys usually used for anxiety or autism, and the hem of her shirt is wrecked from constant tugging and picking over a long period of time– she’s not lying about anything, she’s just legitimately stressed out) Jules leans in.
“So, before you leave, can I ask something a little more… personal?”
“Um, I-I guess.”
“My partner told me that when you met Shawn, you–”
“Panicked.” She looks around again. “He um– he said he’s psychic.”
“He says that, yes.” Lassie’s entire being screams about how he doesn’t believe it, and Jules ignores him.
“He’s been working with our department for a few years now, and he’s helped us solve a lot of cases. It’s pretty likely he’ll work on this one, too.”
The girl tugs at the hem of her shirt. “Years?
“Yes. And I can assure you, personally, that’s he’s actually a very good person. … Annoying, more often than not, and a little egotistical–”
Lassie laugh-scoffs.
“Okay, more than a little egotistical–”
“Does she know we’re still listening?” Shawn whispers to Gus.
“– but a good person.”
The girl chews her lip for a second. “Sorry, I’m not… saying I don’t believe you. It’s just… well, I’ve had a lot of experience with psychics, Detective. I worked as a researcher in the field of metaphysical studies for a time–”
“That’s a field? Who the hell is deciding where funding goes these days?” Lassie seems more perplexed than anything else.
“It is a field, Detective, and a viable one. Yes, most of the psychics we saw were fake, but some were real. And they were…”
“... Were?”
“... It’s not… their fault.” She seems to be choosing her words carefully now. “All of them shared traits of manipulative tendencies, compulsive lying, depersonalization.”
Shawn scoffs. “Now she’s making up words.”
“Depersonalization is a real thing, Shawn.”
“What?”
“It means viewing a person as not really a person, including yourself. Like, treating them like a game.”
“Oh. … All the time?”
“I dunno. … What? I only read one article!”
Lassie looks a little too delighted at the table. “Really? What about, oh, I don’t know… a need to always one-up someone?”
“Sort of, yes. Psychics are… you’re going to think I sound crazy.”
“Oh, if you had spoken with Spencer, you’d know we’ve had to develop a high tolerance for crazy talk.”
“... Well, they’re sort of… the universe’s favorites. We tracked patterns of incredible luck, not just from having visions, but generally impossibly lucky situations all around. By the time I left the program because of my experiences, the theory was that because they were so much more closely connected to the primordial and essential makeup of the universe itself, it made sure to keep them, for the most part, safe and successful. That’s not to say they never had hardships, just that… things would always work out in the end.”
“Yeah, but that’s just life.” Shawn shrugs.
“Not for most people, Shawn. You just have some of the weirdest luck in the world.”
“Gus, I’ve been shot and punched and pistol-whipped, some of those more than once. I don’t think that’s lucky.”
“You haven’t gotten killed yet though.”
“What do you mean yet?”
The girl goes on. “And because life sort of bends around them, they… play. With people, usually. Not maliciously, but… they don’t experience things the same way we do. Does your psychic seem to align with that?”
“Absolutely.” Jules sighs. “Shawn never follows the rules, but everything always goes his way in the end. It’s impressive, and usually very helpful to us, but…”
“Irritating.”
“I was going to say difficult to work with at times. … But my partner isn’t wrong.”
“Seriously, do they know we’re here?” Shawn reaches up to knock on the glass, but Gus grabs his hand before he can directly disobey The Chief like he usually does.
The girl nods. “Like I said, it’s not entirely their fault, but it means you should be… cautious. He’s the only psychic you’ve ever known, right?”
“He is.”
“You can’t really believe whatever he presents himself as to you. Think of the universe like a… a woven rug. Not knitted or woven with little threads, but like… one made of long, inconsistent scraps of old clothes, or blankets, things like that. It’s messy, and unsymmetrical, and it seems chaotic, but it’s actually carefully crafted.”
Shawn tilts his head. “That… sounds familiar.”
“It does?” Gus frowns. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard this analogy in my life.”
“And what, you’ve heard all of them?”
“Most of them. I took a philosophy class for half a semester in college.”
“Man, you took that class because of all the hot nerdy girls and barely paid attention.”
“How did you–”
“Uh, I know you, and have since forever? Just, trust me, man, I’ve… I’ve heard this before. Somewhere.”
Jules is nodding as the girl talks. “But what does this have to do with why you’re afraid of Shawn?”
“Well, all of us, everything we know, this physical world, isn’t actually in the weave. Imagine us like… appliqués. We’re all existing on top of the base of the universe, apart of it but not truly one with it. Life happens around us, and we can influence it in ways, but most of what we experience is already woven tight.”
Shawn isn’t sure when he started leaning in to listen– he only notices he’s moved when Gus has to put a hand out and keep him from falling into the glass.
“Shawn, are you okay?”
Shawn blinks. The room is tilting a little, and he feels…
He flexes his hands. Something is under them. He can feel a faint scrape against his fingernails, but they’re itching at nothing but air. “I uh… yeah, buddy. I just… swear I’ve heard this before…”
The girl has spread out an old sheet of paper on the table, and put her chew toy on top. “We’re all here, on this top layer. But psychics aren’t. They’re born with a deeper connection to the universe at large. To put it simply, while we’re all applied on top, psychics are–”
“– woven directly in.”
Shawn sits in his grandma’s lap as she makes a little rug out of his old baby clothes. He’s two years old at the most, probably younger, chewing on his thumb and trying to grab the scraps of fabric away from his grandma’s hands. He’s never remembered anything far back before.
“Someday you’ll be able to feel it,” she says. “I wish I could tell you when, but it’s hard to see. Everything else is a layer, easy to observe and pick apart, but you and I are side-by-side. I can’t follow your… well, this isn’t exactly thread, is it? Cord, how about?”
“And because they’re woven directly in, they can manipulate the cords around them.” Shawn hears the girl, but almost distantly– he’s also facing the floor now, and Gus’s arm is bracing his chest, and Gus is saying his name but Shawn isn’t sure he can answer because he’s not sure he’s here right now.
He flexes his hands again, feeling his nails scrape against thick bundles of fabric tightly bound together, hearing the faint sound of dull bumping even though he’s not touching anything but air.
“When they have a vision, or an intuition, it’s–”
“– the universe sending a signal. It’s like it’s… asking us for help, to change something. It wants to change something, but it can’t just unravel itself. It needs us to help it change shape and–”
“– shift outcomes. They can follow cords in all directions, moving throughout the weave itself, which manifest as their psychic abilities. They can follow it back to what was, forwards to what will be, and side to side to what is. Even when they aren’t aware of this connection–”
“– you’ll still feel it. I know your father has… specific plans for you, so you probably won’t be able to distinguish one gift from another. You’ll be drawn to certain details, know by instinct what will be important later even if there’s no reason it should seem important now. You’ll know things you shouldn’t be able to know, and won’t even realize you shouldn’t.”
Shawn’s breaths are coming in gasps. He feels it pressing in, the tight cords and bundles, feel them wrapped around his hands and running through his skull–
“For things like mind reading, knowing about people on a personal level, think of the underside of an appliqué. It’s not the polished, presentable side, it’s the mess that shows what goes into the whole image. The underside is where you’ll find the messy threads, the jumbled colors, the weird patterns that go into the clear picture of the finished product. Psychics can–”
“– look at what fundamentally makes up a person, the nitty-gritty details, not just the whole picture. We can see what other people can’t. Even the person we’re reading might not know everything that goes into their makeup, and we can see them better than they see themselves.”
Shawn isn’t facing the floor anymore. He’s facing the ceiling, and Gus, who’s shaking him. Is he shaking him? Shawn is shaking. He’s shaking and he’s bound up tightly in cords and scraps and threads and it’s not concrete under his hands but a rug and his fingers can’t stop scraping it over and over and over, bump bump bump bump–
“Shawn!”
He wants to say something but his mouth won’t work. There’s a cord running through it, and another, and another, through his whole body, he can feel each one and he can see them and as he runs his hands over more it’s so much.
Bump. He tastes chicken parmesan and asparagus and knows it’s the last taste someone will ever experience. Bump. He smells old-lady perfume and smoke and it’s arson, the perfume is the accelerant, he chokes on the smoke and the heavy floral fragrance. Bump. He sees a red car speeding down the road and someone is on the phone, they’re not paying attention until they hear the roaring engine and by then it’s too late–
“It’s easy to get lost in. Sometimes we’re pulled apart, when we get too encompassed by the weave, and our physical bodies can’t really handle it. That’s why it’s going to be very important that you find people who care about you, Shawn. It’ll be tempting to toy with everything and let it work itself out, but you can’t rely on that all the time. The universe is on your side, but it doesn’t always know what’s good for you. You need to make a good life, good choices, good relationships, or else you won’t–”
“– snap out of it!” Shawn’s not here. Gus is screaming from somewhere else. He’s caught in the tight cords but he’s shaking too, and he can’t stop, and he’s somewhere else and his eyes aren’t focusing and he can’t feel anything but he can feel everything, the cords running through his body thrumming with the whole wide world and more and he’s more and it’s too small a space for so much–
“Guster, what the hell are you–! Holy–”
“Oh my god, Shawn! Gus, what–”
“I don’t know! He just collapsed and started seizing!”
“MCNAB! CALL AN AMBULANCE!”
“Has this ever happened before?!”
“No!”
“Shawn, Shawn try to focus on me–”
Jules’s hands touch his face and he feels the already tight cords snap into a specific pattern, and the ones in his mouth finally loosen up and he’s still not here but he is and he’s everywhere all at once and her whole life travels along the top of one cord and it’s running right through his skull–
“Stay with us Shawn, don’t go, oh my god don’t go we need more time, there’s so much we still have to work out–”
It’s not Jules saying it aloud. Her eyes go wide as Shawn recites every frantic thought running through her head, the words pouring into him and spilling right back out.
Her hands pull away and his head can’t steady itself and a new hand catches his face and–
“Don’t you dare leave me Shawn! I need you, I need you, I can’t imagine my life without you in it, don’t you dare leave me alone out here it’s supposed to be us against everything not just me–”
Gus’s hand pulls away with a whispered “Oh my god,” and a sound like crying but they’re too close for Shawn to see their faces, everything’s close and far and here and there and Now and Then and Happened and Happening and it’s So. Much.
“Oh my go– Carlton, get the first aid kit! He’s bleeding!”
“What?!”
“He’s bleeding, Carlton! From–from his his nose and his ears, I don’t–”
“MCNAB! WHERE THE HELL IS THE AMBULANCE?!”
“It’s easy to get lost in. Sometimes we’re pulled apart. It’s easy to get lost in, sometimes we’re pulled apart. It’s easy to get lost in sometimes we’re pulled apart It’s Easy To Get Lost In Sometimes We’re Pulled Apart.”
Shawn sees Lassie’s face join Jules and Gus above him, all three twisted with panic and fear and care.
And then.
He Unravels.