The Psychic That Had A Brother

Phone Calls and the Twins

Juliet's POV:

I wake up with my head still on Shawn's chest. When I sit up, I wake him up. He opens his eyes and looks up at me. I smile and kiss him on the forehead. He sits up and winces. I help him sit up, he was just shot the other night! My phone rings. I reach across Shawn to grab my phone. I stand up and answer it,"O'Hara." A voice then comes over the phone.

"I know that. How's Shawn. I heard he saved those two boys I tried to kill, slowly. Oh well, that will only make his death worse."

"Who is this?" I demand. Shawn looks up at me with concern.

"You know who. Anyways. Today is the last day of the game, pass it on. Tell Shawnie that his time is running out. He will die soon, and no one will miss him. It's kind of sad, you two are such a cute couple. But hey, let's be real, you could do much better. I heard that Declan is still available. After I kill Shawn, you should call Declan, ask for forgiveness. Because let's be honest, no one will miss him, not you, not Gus, nobody."

"Shut up!" I demand. Shawn doesn't move.

"Okay, I'll have you listen to your boyfriend when he was five, he was so cute." I hear a few clicks, then I hear a young voice come over the phone.

"Jake! Jake wake up! Please! Please wake up!" the boy is interrupted by sobs. "Jake please, don't leave me! Wake up! Please! Jake!" Tears roll down my cheeks. Shawn suddenly stands up. He approaches me, but I put a hand out. There is suddenly an extremely loud scream shooting through my phone, causing me to drop it. Shawn picks it up, but the man already hung up. Shawn tosses the phone on the bed. He wraps me in his arms. I cry into his chest. After I calm down a little, I talk.

"He said that today is the last day of the game. He- he played a recording of when you were five. It was when you were begging Jake to-to wake up," I manage to tell him. I hear his heart beat quicken. I hold him tighter. "He said you're running out of time, that he is going to kill you, soon." Shawn squeezes me tighter, I don't object. He eventually lets me go. It's only five in the morning. Shawn sits on the bed, pain written all over his face. I sit next to him. He rests his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.  I rest my head on his back.

I don't want to lose him, lose everything we have made. I have come to love this overgrown child more than I ever knew I could. I love him, and I don't want to lose him. And it's killing me seeing Shawn like this, utterly defeated. That's how Shawn looks, defeated. His usual hyperness has completely vanished. His humor has minimized, but it's still there. His heart is just as big, but being shattered. He cares so much about everyone else and trying to keep them together, that he's forgetting about himself. So we are trying to keep him in one piece. It's all just a lop-sided circle. I sit up. Shawn does the same. He then falls on his back and closes his eyes. I lay next to him. I then get close to him, forgetting about his side. He lets out a groan but quickly catches himself. I start to scoot away, but he holds me in place with an arm. I rest my head on his chest, his heart is still beating quickly. I fall asleep that way, listening to his heart beat.

When I wake up I'm alone on the bed. I sit up and look around, the room is empty. I get up and walk into the  living room, Shawn is watching t.v. I sit next to him. I rest my head on his shoulder. He doesn't move or say anything. He then suddenly stands up and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask him.

"Psych," he answers.

"Want me to take you, I have to go to the department," I offer.

"No, I'll ride my bike," he says before shutting the door behind him. I look out the window and watch as Shawn climbs onto his motorcycle and leaves.