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Psychic in the City (Chap 3/2+6)

Title: Psychic in the City
Fandom: Psych, White Collar
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Peter, Neal, El, Mozzie, Diana, Jones with cameos from Henry, Juliet & Lassiter
Word Count: 1185
Rating: PG-13
Overall Summary: Shawn tags along when Gus goes to New York City for a convention. He takes the time to look up old friends.
Chapter Summary Shawn and Neal learn they have a stalker
Notes: I honestly don't know the inspiration for this but I wanted to have the two meet as teens after leaving home. There are many conflicting dates regarding when Neal was born, but one of them only makes him a month younger than Shawn so I used it. I'd also like to thank my three betas snowflakie06, slytheringurrl and the_moogie

First Prologue Second Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Shawn blinked in the early afternoon sun as he followed Neal and Peter outside. The sounds of traffic were almost deafening after the echoing silence of the museum.

Malone had let them into the gallery where the theft had taken place. They couldn’t touch anything and weren’t allowed to be there for very long. She had thought she was getting the upper hand in the situation, but she didn’t know about Shawn’s “talents”. Peter had made a few token protests but didn’t want to risk the detective’s benevolent mood.

“Even though I’ve sent the video to Jones, I still think it would be for the best if you two came to the office. We can take the evidence straight from Shawn’s phone. Then it’s back home for both of you.” He realized what he said and amended it. “Or your hotel.”

“Peter, you can’t confine Shawn to a hotel room.”

Shawn didn’t hear Peter’s response as his phone chose that moment ring. He barely had it up to his ear when his dad began shouting.

“Shawn! What the hell are you doing? I hear there’s a theft at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and then I see you with the FBI?”

“What? Dad, slow down. What do you mean ‘see’?”

“Turn to your left.”

Shawn looked as directed and saw vans from the city’s six major TV stations which meant there was a live feed going out.

“Uh, guys, we’re gonna have trouble with this.”

Peter was livid. “Who called the media? We don’t need this!”

“The thief,” supplied Neal. “He blends in with the crowd. We’re tied up with the press which gives him more time.”

Shawn heard squawking from the phone. He lifted it to his ear. “Dad, putting you on speaker.”

Henry’s tirade ended at the beep.

“Gentlemen, my dad, Henry Spencer.”

“Mr. Spencer, Special Agent Peter Burke with the FBI. Can you tell us what the media is saying?”

“They’re not saying what was taken, but that the FBI is on the scene and two men were in custody. One of them was identified as Neal Caffrey, a convicted forger.”

“That would be me,” Neal said with a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. Spencer. Glad to hear you’re recovering nicely.”

Shawn could picture his father’s face going red as he spluttered on the other end.

“It’s fine, Pops, he’s a friend.”

“Of course he is.”

Shawn looked apologetically at Neal who shrugged it off.

“Did you call for something other than to yell at me cross-country?”

“I was concerned, Shawn. Seeing you with the FBI…”

“Mr. Spencer, your son is not in trouble. He’s helping us.”

“Shawn, you did not--”

“Dad, they know. I met them after I left home. I’ll call tonight, okay? We’ve got to get going.”

“You’d better or I’m calling Gus!” Henry threatened before ending the call.

“You’re right,” said Peter. “He definitely is Mr. Spencer.”


During the drive to the FBI building, Shawn had calls from Gus and Juliet. Yes, he was fine. No, he didn’t have anything to do with the theft. He’d call back as soon as he could.

Upon entering the office, Diana approached with an open evidence bag and held it out in front of Shawn. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and dropped it inside. “You’ll have it back by the end of the day,” she told him.

Peter then took them into the conference room. There was a pile of sketchbooks on the table. “You have at it while I check in with Jones.” He left.

Shawn snagged the top pad along with one of the very pointy pencils provided and sat across from Neal and began to draw a very basic floor-plan. He made sure to mark the entrances, air vents, display cases and all the bits of possible evidence. It made him think of the Nelson Poe case. Maybe I should ask for an air hockey table and some plastic toys. A laugh escaped him. Neal looked up, an eyebrow raised. “Sorry.”

Peter came back with Jones. “What have you got for me?”

“It’s a bit of a rushed job so it’s not great, but…”

Neal laid out his sketches on the table. They were more elaborate than any floor-plan drawn from memory had the right to be. No wonder he was such a great forger.

Shawn set his down, and, going by looks alone, his were stick figures in comparison. “It’s no Monet, but I think I’ve a few more details.”

“How long were you in the room?” asked Jones.

“About five minutes,” answered Neal.

“Not even a challenge,” Shawn commented. “I once recreated a crime scene from seeing a police model for only two minutes.”


“Oh, yeah.” There was no need for them to know about the toys.

“Okay.” Peter looked over the plans. “Now we only have to figure out how our thief got in and out.”

Neal’s phone rang, indicating a text or email. He raised a finger when Peter gave him a sour look. He took the phone from his pocket. “It might be from Mozzie.”

Shawn saw his face fall. “What?”

Neal slid the phone across the table and Shawn saw a photo of the two of them from earlier in the day at the Met.


“What?” Peter took the phone from Shawn’s slack grasp. “This is not good.”

“You think so?” Neal ran a hand through his hair.

“This could be the thief. Someone has it out for you.”

“That’s not exactly a short list.”

“Fine. We’ll get it down to the lab and see if they can get a name or location.”

“Probably used a burner,” mused Shawn.

“Probably, but we might be able to find out where it was purchased. In the meantime, Jones is going to drive you home.” He raised a hand to stop their protests. “You have a stalker and someone set you up for a theft. No wandering the streets.”

Shawn snickered.

“You know what I mean.”

“A stalker would already know where Neal lives. A ride home is only going to solve part of the problem.”

“We could arrange a detail,” volunteered Jones.

“Think of it as protection for June,” Peter said at Neal’s hesitance.

“OK.” He gave in. “For June.”

Peter slipped Neal’s phone into an evidence bag and had one of the newer agents take it to the lab. As they stood and prepared to leave, Peter had to give a little lecture. “I want you both to stay put, no sneaking out the back door. Neal, I will be monitoring your movements. Shawn, I can’t do anything to you, but if you stay, Neal will stay. Plus, I really don’t want to talk to your dad if anything goes wrong.”

Shawn knew that Peter really cared for Neal. It probably started in a similar way to how things worked when he was here. Well, except for the fact that he wasn’t a felon. And hey, spending the day stuck in Neal’s apartment was way better than being in a hotel room by himself.


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