Double Trouble (A Psych Fanfiction)

A/N: This is a fun story I wrote several years ago for my Psych-loving siblings. I do not own Psych or the characters from Psych.

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June, 1987

“Please, Dad, no!” ten year old Shawn Spencer pleaded. “I’ll do anything! I’ll clean my room! I’ll…take out the trash everyday! Just don’t make me do this!”

“Sorry, kid,” Henry Spencer responded, pushing open the door in front of them. “Your mom wants you to do this, and I am not going to argue with her. You’re going to have to learn sometime that you will not be able to do what whatever you want all the time.”

Classical music filled the lobby of the dance studio. “When I’m grown up, I will never do anything I don’t want to!” Shawn declared. “There is absolutely no point in learning to dance!”

“Well, you’re going to learn anyway. It’ll be a summer project for you,” Henry told him firmly. He smiled at the approaching woman. “I’m Henry Spencer, and this is my son, Shawn. He is here to join you’re junior class.”

Smiling broadly, the tall woman checked her clipboard. “Welcome, Shawn,” she said. “I’m Hattie Larson. It’s wonderful to see a young man such as yourself taking an interest in the cultural achievement of dance. I’m sure we’re going to have a lot of fun in the next few months.”

Instead of responding, Shawn turned his head and gagged silently. “Well, I’ll leave him in your care,” Henry said, sending a glare at his only child. “I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up, Shawn. I will know if you try to sneak away, got it?”

Morosely, Shawn nodded. “I look forward to seeing you this evening, Mr. Spencer,” Miss Larson exclaimed, looking up. Henry stared at her incredulously. “You’ll be in our adult beginner’s class, which begins at seven o’clock. It’s the best time for most working men, such as yourself.”

Still smiling, the woman walked away, calling for her class, made up of mostly girls, to begin. “Sometimes you have to do what you don’t want to do, Dad,” Shawn spoke up, as his father continued to stare where the dance instructor had been. “Mom signed you up too, huh?”

All right,” Henry said, leaning down and lowering his voice. “This is going to be our story: we got here, the nice lady insulted us both, which in a manner of speaking she did, and we will not be coming back. We will never ever discuss this again. Got it?”

“Got it,” Shawn agreed cheerfully.

When the dance instructor turned to call Shawn over, the boy and his father were not in sight.

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Twenty-One Years and Two Months Later (August, 2008)

Despite being early morning, the buss terminal was bustling with activity. Five buses had arrived at the same time. Passengers were disembarking and fighting to get their luggage. At the same time, three buses were about to leave, and there was a rush of passengers trying to get their luggage on board and get to their seats.

In the midst of the chaos, a boy and a girl stood with backpacks on their shoulders. Behind them, a tall, black haired woman was looking around. “Ethan, Evelyn, I’ll be right back,” she said to the two kids. Without waiting for a response, she picked up a black duffel bag and entered the stream of people headed for the buses.

“This was an incredibly stupid detour,” the girl commented, brushing her sandy brown hair out of her face.

“Evie, she said she had to send the bag to someone,” the boy commented. He closed his eyes, tapping his fingers on his leg. “We’ll get to wherever we need to be in time to officially enter the contest.” He frowned. “To our right, someone is about to lose the wheels on his bag.”

Sighing, Evelyn turned her head. One of the wheels on a man’s bag wobbled off, and the bag twisted sideways. Aggravated, the man picked the bag up by the handle and hurried on. “You were a little off,” Evelyn reported smugly. “It was only one wheel.”

Snorting, Ethan waved his right dismissively. “Whatever,” he responded, opening his eyes. “Do you see Miss Jones?”

“No. Why?” Evelyn asked, going up on her tiptoes. Even then, she couldn’t see over the crowd. “Let me get on your shoulders.”

“You can’t just go stand on the bench?” Ethan asked, shedding his backpack and crouching down. Scowling at him, his sister climbed onto his back and he straightened up carefully. “I did hear something strange, OK? This guy was saying they saw ‘her’ and she’d left the two kids but she didn’t have the bag. I think he was on the phone.”

“What makes you think they were talking about Miss Jones?” Evelyn asked, balancing on his shoulders. She scanned the thinning crowd. She turned her head towards the parking lot, and she saw three men standing by a car. Narrowing her gaze, Evelyn focused on the third man slumping to the ground lifelessly. One of the men looked over and spotted her. “Ethan, you look!”

Evelyn slid down his back to the ground and Ethan bolted for a bench. Jumping up, he looked over to the parking lot. Turning from a passenger door, one man caught sight of Ethan and stared at the boy. Then, the man and his companion climbed into the car. Ethan just barely spotted the dark haired woman in the back seat before the car took off, but it was enough to draw a conclusion.

“Miss Jones is gone,” he reported, jumping down. “Now what are we going to do?”

“Call the police?”

Ethan shook his head. “The police won’t believe us,” he responded. “Wait! Do you still have that card? The one with the number we’re supposed to call in the case of an emergency?”

Nodding, Evelyn swung her own backpack off her shoulder and unzipped one of the small pockets. She pulled out a business card. Taking the card from her, Ethan hurried to the side where there was relative quiet. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed the number written on the back of the card.

“Hi, my sister and I just saw a kidnapping and we were told you’d help us if something bad ever happened,” he said. The response was loud and emphatic. Flinching, Ethan closed the phone. “He said to call the police.”

“Told you,” Evelyn responded with a smirk. “I’ll call this time. You’re too abrupt.”

She reached for his phone. “Hold on a second,” Ethan objected, holding it away. He turned it over and read the actual business, “Psych. Private Psychic Detective Agency. Let’s try this!”