head_psychic

"Do you know who I was? Nobody. Except on the day after, I was still alive. This nobody had a chance to be somebody."
Aunty Entity (Tina Turner), Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome

"I know who you are. You're the one no one believes used to be a model."

"Who's saying these things..."

"... I believe you."

"Thank you."

---

Shawn still didn't like hospitals. There was a more than decent chance this wasn't going to change anytime soon and walking these hallways already more depressed than a cow under a cloudy sky wasn't doing anything to improve his situation. Everything was too bright and white and sterile and all he wanted was to crawl under some stereotypical stone or go to some party where no one knew him and the only models would stare from the walls, waiting for someone to be drunk enough to paint fake moustaches on their faces.

Still, Shawn had said he was going to come back later and that's what he intended to do.

He was quiet when he entered Emily's room but she was awake, watching him when he walked over to her bed, her face warming with recognition. "Hey. You really came back."

"Hi, Emily." He took the chair and moved it over to sit at her bedside. "That's what I said."

"No one’s been here so far to visit me. It's late, I can't really expect them to, can I."

"No," Shawn agreed. "I guess you can't."

"It's nice you're here, Black."

"Ah." He pulled a face at the name, then grinned, chuckled even and shook his head. "That's... not my name, actually."

Emily frowned, puzzled for a moment and nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember, you started something like that before you left," she said in her small, breathy voice he realized was so nice to listen to, just nice.

"Yes," he nodded. "Anyway, I'm not Black." He smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "My name is Shawn," he completed his attempt from earlier. "I'm a... I work for the police."

"Shawn." She smiled tiredly and she looked so nice in the blue hospital clothes and the messy hair and the way she was just there. "That's a nice name."

He blinked and cleared his throat, momentarily staring at the sheets before him. "Thanks." He looked up again. "I like Emily, you know. The name." And then, because he didn't know what to say "I'm glad you didn't die."

"Oh. Thanks."

They silenced, occasionally making sounds you make before starting a sentence but then didn't.

"You look troubled, Shawn. Is this still the modelling thing? You know, that no one-"

"Naah, I..." He laughed inanely. "I just, I mean this is the shallow model world, isn't it. I mean, you live in it, you work in it, it's nothing. Besides they were right. I mean, I'm not a model. Foot and ankles, yeah, but-"

"You were so nice to me."

He blinked, currently thrown off. "What?"

"That evening. When we met."

"Oh. Well, you were nice to me as well. Which was nice. You being nice, I mean." She laughed and he smiled.

They fell silent again and this time it seemed like a good closure. It was getting really late by now and if he was completely honest visitor's hour had ended a lifetime ago. Besides, she looked tired and Shawn himself felt totally smashed.

"Right." He rose, his movements a little livelier than when he had come here. "I better go." She smiled and nodded and Shawn nodded, too, walking over to the door.

"Shawn?"

He paused, looking back over his shoulder, hand on the doorknob.

"You're pretty. In a lot of ways." She smiled at him and it was one of the most genuine things he had seen in days, leaving him a little warmer on his way out.

Muse: Shawn Spencer
Fandom: Psych
Words: 582 (without episode quotes)