Repeat Actions

For Whumpathon 2015 on PsychFic.

Location: Psych office

Whump: suffocation, stab wounds

Toolkit: rope, knife

Recipient: Shawn

Villian: McQuarrie (aka Garth Longmore)

This is my first Whumpathon attempt. Let's hope it goes well.

Set after episode 4x09 "Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark"

-

"No, Shawn, I'm not going to drive you to a murderer's house!" Gus slammed his car door shut and drove away, leaving Shawn on the sidewalk. Shawn knitted his eyebrows. Why was Gus bailing on him? Okay, maybe using his pharmaceutical case for storing chocolate was a bit much, but it certainly didn't mean he should completely abandon him. He was just about finished with the last bar anyway.

He began to walk back into the office, where Gus had just stormed out of. Maybe Gus was just being paranoid. It had only been a few weeks since he had gotten shot...but Shawn felt fine. He was a little bit more careful when he went to follow a hunch, but, other than that, things were normal.

He opened the door to the Psych office and walked inside. Sighing, he locked it behind him. Both Gus and his dad would kill him if he didn't. They didn't want anybody to be able to walk up behind him when he was alone in the office.

Shawn tossed the chocolate wrapper in the trash as he yawned. It was only three in the afternoon, but he felt exhausted. He was ready to crash on the couch when he felt a searing pain in his left shoulder.

The doctor had warned him about this. There was some small nerve damage where he was shot, so he got some pains sometimes. Though Shawn was pretty sure that it was supposed go away by now.

Then he realized something. It didn't feel like nerve damage at all. No, it really felt like something quite different. Maybe something cool and thin impaling him.

Then he turned to see the person behind him who was wielding the knife.

-

For the past few weeks, Carlton Lassiter had been having the best and worst days of his life. It had been what he's always wanted - a Spencer-free police station. No psychic visions, no jumping around obnoxiously, no stealing of coffee. No yells, no distractions. And while this was exactly what was right, it felt wrong.

The station was quiet, yes, but too quiet. Carlton had to admit that Spencer brought a certain sort of life to the place, and, without him, it was gone. Yes, they were still solving cases, but it was the first time everyone noticed how much they missed Spencer, how much they'd needed the comic relief.

It had been weeks since the recovery of their beloved psychic, but the Chief was forced to put him on temporary leave due to protocol. It would be another week before he could even step foot inside the SBPD to try to get a case.

And that was why Carlton Lassiter sat in the station, at his desk, staring at his darkened computer screen, his coffee forgotten on his stack of paperwork. Things just didn't feel right.

"Carlton," He heard a voice, but didn't acknowledge it. "Carlton!"

The urgency in his partner's tone snapped him out of his thoughtful fog.

"What?" Carlton sat up straight in his desk chair, waiting for whatever news Juliet had to tell him.

"Prison transport called," She said softly. "Three guards were found knocked out, and one is missing. We're assuming he was paid off. McQuarrie escaped."