Hey people :) So this is my first fan fiction, I'm, (yes quite cheesily), super excited about it lol. I'm sorry if I categorized it wrong or put it under the wrong rating, I'm still figuring out the system here a bit, but I am just going to rate it up from what I think it is just in case haha.
I have most of it all written out, but I am only going to post the first chapter for now to see what kind of response it gets. Tell me what you think - I don't mind a little *constructive* criticism either :P
I, of course, make no claims to any characters, (sadly), except for the ones I rightfully created for the purposes of this story :)
1. Chapter 1 by Cricket
2. Chapter 2 by Cricket
3. Chapter 3 by Cricket
4. Chapter 4 by Cricket
5. Chapter 5 by Cricket
6. Chapter 6 by Cricket
Gus sat down at his table, ready to enjoy a homemade meal consisting of leftover spaghetti and the less home-made deep fried chicken. He held a piece of chicken between his fingers, his mouth open in anticipation of the greasy goodness.
With a start, the chicken fell back to the plate as someone's fist repeatedly pounded on Gus's small apartment door. Jumping to his feet in fear, he waited to see what would happen next.
Bang, bang, bang! The knocks exploded out of the silence, Gus's hands finding the closest weapon available.
Gus inched towards the door, a spelling bee trophy cradled in his hands. The pounding came again from the other side, making Gus jump back in surprise. He took a look through the small peephole, having to take a double take as his brain tried to register what was on the other side. He flung it open, exposing an extremely dirty, agitated, scrawny man, who stood bouncing on his heels. His arm was in a sling, one eye bruised in the phases between a blackish purple and a yellowish green.
“I'm sorry...I didn't know...where else to go,” the figure spoke, Gus just staring in awe.
“Shawn?” Gus could only continue to stare as his friend- who had been MIA for the past eight years - collapsed in a limp heap on the floor, unconscious before hitting the ground.
6 months later -
“Come on, buddy!” Shawn leaped forward, watching as his friend attempted, (and failed), to follow after, his friend tripping against his shoelaces, which he had just realized had been tied together.
“Shawn? Shawn!” Gus cried out indignantly when he realized his friend was racing away without him.
“You snooze, you lose!” Shawn cried out, climbing into the passenger seat of the Blueberry, holding out the keys as his friend climbed in beside him.
“That wasn't very nice, you know,” Gus snorted, pulling his seat belt on. For a moment, Shawn sat with his eyes closed, remaining very, very still.
“Shawn?” Gus prodded, half afraid of what might awaken.
“Hm?” today, Shawn just turned to blink over at Gus, “oh, yeah, like I was saying...”
“Shawn, you weren't saying anything.”
“Yeah, before we got in the car, my little Gust-a-lonie,” Shawn was back, a smirk covering his face. Any sign of distress had disappeared off his face, just the way he wanted it.
“You were saying?” Gus decided it was easier to just go with it, rather than fight it. Fighting it means one of two things – you get in an argument where neither side will ever win, or Shawn runs. He didn't want to push Shawn into running again, especially considering the condition he came back in the last time he ran.
Gus suppressed shivers at the thought.
“I was telling you about this new laser tag joint that's opened up, right next to Maggie's!” Shawn declared loudly, naming off their all time favorite diner.
“Shawn-” before Gus's protest could be fully acknowledged, (and then probably promptly ignored), Shawn's cell phone buzzed in his pocket.
“This is the office of Psych, where all your psych filled dreams can come true,” Shawn answered the phone, Gus rolling his eyes.
“Mr.Spencer, I need to see you and Mr.Guster at my office,” the chief pretended to ignore the informal greeting.
“Ai-ai, chief!” He saluted, even though he knew she couldn't see him. Ending the call, he turned back to his best friend.
“Gus, onwards, to the SBPD!” Shawn pointed with his phone, Gus rolling his eyes as he shifted his car into drive.
The station was bustling as Shawn and Gus made their way to the Chief's office, Shawn noting the little details he was positive his friend was missing. The first “office”, or really desk, he noticed that since yesterday a new picture frame had been added to the desk. Upon further notice, he realized that the officer typing silently behind the desk could hardly sit still, her foot bouncing as if in anticipation, her eyes continuously flicking towards the gem glimmering around her finger. He took a glance towards the photo, a man hugging her from behind.
The next desk over was less revealing, until he noticed a newly purchased gym bag sitting beside a newly purchased pair of tennis shoes. The hilt of a racket was just beginning to show, tossed on the floor in a jumbled mess as if in tired ignorance.
The last desk made Shawn smile slightly to himself. This is gonna be so much fun.
“Congratulations on your engagement, you make such a lovely couple,” Shawn nodded towards the first officer, her face containing a look of pure joy that moved to shock as she realized she hadn't said a word to the man already moving on to the next desk.
“Tennis, my man, you gotta tell me, is it for the ladies or for the sport? Never mind, don't answer, I think we all know,” Shawn winked, the man starting to gesture towards Shawn with a fist bump before he realized that he barely even knew who the man standing before him was.
Finally, Shawn came to stand before the last desk, the figure sitting behind it not having noticed it yet.
“Don't even start, Spencer!” the figure attempted to cut him off, but was too late.
“-have a date tonight, Lassie?” the whole office fell silent. Only Shawn had the audacity to flat out confront the head detective.
“As a matter of fact, I don't believe that concerns you,” Lassiter replied, close to spitting. He let his hand rest on the hilt of his gun, even though the logic in his head told him it wouldn't work. It, of course, didn't, if anything, the gesturing threat only encouraged the psychic's asinine antics.
“I would definitely go with the blue tie, it will make your little eyes pop right out, don't you agree, Gus?” Shawn was already turning to head back towards his original destination.
“No comment,” Gus crossed his arms, head high as he passed Shawn to knock on the Chief's door.
“Come in!” came a muffled reply, Shawn promptly stepping in past Gus.
“Chief, you have summoned us!” With both hands in the air, he walked across the room, falling back into the chair sideways.
“Mr.Spencer!” the chief warned, pointing for Gus to shut the door.
“What can we do for you, Chief Vick?” Gus flicked Shawn in the head to make him sit up, the two of them grumbling at each other under their breaths.
“A-hem, gentleman, if I might interrupt.” Both men froze, turning towards her.
“If I might have both of your attentions for a moment, this meeting is of a rather...serious, nature.”
“I'm sorry, Chief, we're listening,” with one last shoulder shove to Shawn, Gus folded his hands in his laps, turning toward the impatient chief of police.
“Yes, alright,” she pushed a file towards them. Shawn snatched it off the table before Gus could so much as take a glance at it, already flipping through it, “that is what we need help with.” Gus looked towards her, waiting for her to continue, but came to the realization that the chief was no longer interested in speaking. She was waiting to see a reaction.
He turned his attention back to Shawn, who had stopped flipping, his fingers pinching a page tightly. His overly cheerful mood had dropped to nothing other than blackness, his face falling, but before Gus and the Chief had any real time to decide what they were seeing, he snapped the file shut.
“I...don't think we can be of assistance on this case,” he plopped it back on the desk, turned and walked out.
“Mr.Spencer!” she shouted after him, but it was too late.
“What is it?” Gus scooped the file up, the chief sighing. He flipped open the file. It was – with no other words to use – bad. Very bad.
“Nathan Coligan, he escaped from prison last night. He was serving a life sentence for thirteen counts of human trafficking, which is the only a small portion of what we believe he actually did,” the Chief sighed.
“So you need us to hunt him down?” Gus turned to hand the file back, surprised to find the Chief holding something out to him as well. It was a picture.
“I wanted to know if Shawn remembered anything before showing him this. That is one of the consultants that put Coligan behind bars just over 6 months ago.”
“There must be something...wrong, Chief,” Gus blinked blankly at the photo.
“I don't think so, Mr.Guster.”
Gus looked between her and photo a moment before glaring at the photo as if to make it disappear from his scrutiny. Two hazel eyes stared back at him, a familiar smile plastered to his face, the picture looking like it had been taken for some sort of security badge.
The Chief leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms.
As much as Gus looked on in disbelief, he had to acknowledge that it was a photo of Shawn.
“So...” Gus didn't know what to say.
“It gets worse.” Gus blinked, looking up.
“Worse? What do you mean 'worse'?” Gus finally managed to tear his gaze away from the photo.
“The other three consultants that worked the case with him were all found dead this morning.”
“Shawn! Sha-” Gus stopped as he ran smack into Shawn, who was standing outside the office, looking dazed.
“Shawn! Why is your picture in that file?” half the precinct looked over curiously.
“Dude, shut up!” Shawn grabbed his friend, glancing over his shoulder carefully before yanking him around a bend in the hallway where they could be out of view.
For a minute, it looked like Shawn was simply contemplating his words, trying to figure out where to start. He opened his mouth as if he had decided, closed it again, and then, “I don't know what you are talking about.”
“Yeah right! Stop with the bull, Shawn,” Gus snorted in reply. Gus blinked as his friend's only response was to turn and head towards the exit.
“Shawn?” Gus followed at his heels. He heard his friend muttering under his breath.
“...that picture was supposed to have disappeared...”
“Shawn, are you going to tell me what's going on?” at this point, they were halfway across the parking lot, Gus moving around in front of Shawn to act as a blockade.
“Gus, buddy-” he paused a moment, his jaw going slack as he glanced at something over Gus's shoulder.
“Um...did you get the Blueberry a new paint job since we went in to see the Chief?” he asked, dumbstruck.
“I most certainly did not!” Gus turned around to see what his friend was staring at.
“Shawn!” Gus cried out, aghast. His little blue company car was covered in what looked like blood, a message written on the back windshield.
He's next, Woodsen.
“Woodsen? He must have the wrong car...” Gus turned to see his friend turn white.
“Shawn? Shawn, what's wrong?” Shawn stumbled backwards a moment, turning to face away from Gus. He took in a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep his hands from shaking.
“It's nothing, buddy, probably the wrong car,” Shawn didn't sound too convincing.
“We should go tell the Chief,” before Gus gave Shawn a chance to think up another option, he turned and walked back into the precinct, willing his friend to follow without any physical initiative. He was relieved as Shawn followed wordlessly behind him.
“That's it, Mr.Spencer, you have to tell us what's going on,” there was now five of them in the office, Shawn fidgeting uncomfortably under their scrutiny.
“I...they probably got the wrong Blueberry, after all, neither Gus or I go by “Woodsen”. What kind of name is that anyway? Wood-sen. It just sounds so wrong.”
“Spencer, shut up!” Lassiter rolled his eyes, turning back to the Chief, “I don't think it's anything to worry about, Chief. Besides, if someone is after that hooligan, maybe they'll succeed in getting rid of him.”
“Carlton!” his partner, Juliet, gave him an annoyed look.
“What? It's not like he does anything useful!”
“He's helped us on twelve different cases in the past 6 months, closing all of them in under a week,” the Chief now looked at Carlton, waiting for his rebuttal. For once, there was none, except a stony glare still aimed at Spencer.
“Mr.Spencer, in this file there is a conflict of interest. We have a list of four names, none of which belong to you. However, of the four pictures, one is of you,” the chief pushed the picture across the table, Juliet and Carlton leaning forward to get a peak. Shawn didn't move to touch it.
“It must have fallen in on accident,” the spark inside him had died, everyone turning to stare at him with disbelief.
“I don't think so. Mr.Spencer, what are you not telling us?” the Chief narrowed her eyes, folding her hands and setting them on her desk.
Shawn sat staring at the floor, trying to think of a response. As if by some miracle, his phone went off in his pocket. He yanked it out, looking up at the Chief with a fake sincerity before looking at the screen. His finger hesitated a moment before sliding open the call.
“Hey, dad,” he turned and walked out into the hallway.
“Dad? Spencer, did you hit your head or do just answer your phone randomly now?”
“No, I was in a sort of...situation...why on earth was that picture still in the file?” he whisper yelled.
“What file? Wait...are you at the SBPD?” the voice on the other side asked, confused.
“Yes, getting questioned about why my picture is in a certain file, showing me to be a consultant when my name isn't listed!”
“They shipped it out before I could stop them, it was supposed to be filed as a classified case!”
“Well, clearly, that did not happen! Where are you, we need to talk. Now.”
“Yes, we do. Turn around.”
“Turn around?” he turned around. She was there.
“I thought you were being questioned?” she crossed her arms, ending the call on her phone.
“I was, until you rescued me,” he whispered. She tilted her head, her bright red hair shimmering slightly. Shawn slowly put his phone away, both of them standing, unmoving, across from each other. Before either really realized what was happening, they both reached out and pulled themselves into a hug, their eyes shut tight.
“It's good to see you,” she whispered softly.
“I didn't think I'd ever see you again...Carrie,” he whispered back. He realized then that the whole precinct was staring, including the four people still in the Chief's office.
“We should probably, um...” before he had a chance to stop her, she turned towards the office, entering without another glance towards Shawn. He rolled his eyes, following after.
“Special Agent Carrie Woodsen, FBI,” she flashed a badge before taking Shawn's vacated seat, indicating for him to follow her lead. He hesitantly sat down beside her, everyone still staring.
“Shawn, do you know her?” Gus broke the silence that followed after the woman's blunt introduction. When Shawn took too long answering, Woodsen, with an annoyed glance towards him, answered for him.
“Yes, he does. I need that file, it was never supposed to have left my office,” she placed her badge back under her suit jacket, her hand stretched out to take the file. To her dismay, the Chief only stared back at her.
“I wasn't asking you, I was asking Shawn,” Gus snorted, turning to look at his buddy. Shawn wouldn't look him in the eye.
“Yes. I know her,” he said softly.
“I can see I've been the subject of many conversations, haven't I?” she sighed, standing up. If they wouldn't give her the file, she'd just have to take it. The chief placed her hand comfortably on the file, blocking the FBI agent with her small gesture.
“Excuse me?” Woodsen was trying to remain pleasant, and losing quickly to her impatience.
“Why wasn't this file supposed to leave your office?”
“Because it contains sensitive information pertaining to my consultants safety.”
“Your consultant?” the chief had always picked her battles carefully, and this was one she had to win.
“Do you really not know? Shawn, did you tell them anything about how we know each other?” Woodsen asked, amazed.
“How much did you tell them?” He could tell she was starting to get a little ticked.
“Um...I think about...none of it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Typical of you, Shawn.” He looked down at the floor, unmoving. Everyone was shocked into silence.
“I need this file,” she finally snatched it out from under the Chief's hand, “and you, my car. Now.”
“Sorry, Chief, gotta go,” without another word he followed the FBI agent out, shrugging his shoulders in a sort of apology.
“Um...what just happened?” Gus asked the question that was wildly spinning around in everyone's minds.
“I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out,” the Chief snorted, snatching up her phone, dismissing the group of people in her office with a flick of her finger.
Disclaimer: I own no rights to any of the characters except the ones I rightfully created for the purposes of my story. No copyright infringement is intended, and any original characters from the series belong to their respective owners :)
So here is chapter 3! :) This section is a bit longer than other sections, so yay for you if you're enjoying it :P
“Seriously? 'My car. Now.'” Shawn mocked the agent openly, walking around to the passenger door of her car.
“Shawn, this is serious! You haven't told them anything?” she slid into her seat, the engine sparking to life. He slid his seat belt on, thinking.
“They didn't need to know,” he finally said.
“So what did you tell them 6 months ago when you turned up again out of the blue?” her hand remained unmoving on the gear shift, her eyes watching his face intently.
“I told them I'd been in an accident,” he was now tapping his fingers against the arm rests.
“And they believed you?” she asked, incredulous. She never would have believed that story. But then again, she knew the truth. Maybe people who hadn't seen you in eight years wouldn't know the difference between the truth and lie at first. Maybe they had just seen what they had wanted: Shawn was back, and he was going to be okay.
She moved the car into drive without another word, turning to gun it out of the station when she hit the brakes with a squeal.
“What is it?” Shawn squawked beside her, raising his arms up to protect his face as if bullets were gonna start flying through the windshield at any minute.
“Whose car is that?” she pointed over at the Blueberry.
“Let's say I may be seen driving periodically in that car.”
“What is periodically?” her voice had become a snarl.
“Um...pretty much daily.”
“He's coming for us,” she whispered softly.
“We stopped him before, we can do it again,” he put a hand over hers, their eyes suddenly interlocking. She nodded after a moment, swallowing.
“Yes...sorry, I need to get a hold of myself,” she took her foot off the brake, the car rolling slowly forward until she pressed down on the gas.
“I think we both do,” he leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. She nodded, letting them both soak in the silence a moment.
“So...what's next?” he was the one to break the silence, finally cracking an eye open at her. They had been driving for almost twenty minutes now.
“We go back to my hotel and see what the team has come up with,” she changed lanes, glancing quickly over her shoulder.
“What team – did we lose him?” Shawn lost his train of thought as he caught her glancing at the side mirror again.
“The car that's following us.”
“Your eyes have been closed for the past twenty minutes, how could you possibly know we were being followed?” her snappy answer told him, no, they hadn't lost him.
“Turn left here,” he suddenly said. The light was red for left turns, but Shawn's face remained expressionless. Old instinct jumped into action, several cars honking in disapproval as they were cut off at the intersection as her little BMW streaked out in front of traffic. The car that was following them got caught up in the jam.
“Lost 'm,” Shawn leaned back in his seat, eyes folding shut again. She didn't expect him to say anything else, but a moment later, very quietly came his voice again, “what team?”
“My FBI team. You didn't think I was going there just for the file, did you? Shawn, you were the sole reason we even found Coligan last time, we need your help to find him again.”
“You couldn't have known I'd be at the station!” his eyes were open now.
“We didn't. It was kind of a coincidence. I was going to have to hunt you down next, and I figured that Chief Vick would have some way of contacting you,” she said the Chief's name like she was shuddering at the thought.
“The Chief isn't bad, Carrie, just protective.”
“She can't protect you from this.”
“No one can, but she doesn't know that. Even if she did, it wouldn't matter. She protects her people. It's her job.”
“Well, I can't say I don't respect her for that,” Carrie admitted with a slight sigh.
They had pulled up in front of a hotel, not the cheap rent by the night hotel, but a hotel where you have to book your rooms months in advance to even get rooms.
“How did you get rooms here?” he asked, slightly amazed.
“We're FBI. We have our ways, come on, Shawn, you can't tell me you've already forgotten the perks of working with the big boys, have you?” she started to lead him inside, tossing her keys to a valet as she passed. He watched her a moment, listening to her heels click along the pavement before finally trotting after her.
“So, what's next?” he asked, glancing at his surroundings. A clerk sat behind the desk, admiring her most recent manicure, answering the phone with the same monotonous greeting each time. A wealthy family wandered after their two rambunctious children that were darting down the hallways, the father clearly fed up with the idea of this vacation while the mother tried to pretend everything was fine. A maid wandered between empty rooms, trying to get them all clean before the next family got there to check in.
“Shawn, this way,” he followed Carrie's voice, counting the steps in the back of his head.
His phone went off right before Carrie opened a door. He looked down at it, his mind registering “Papa Bear” before he shut his phone off completely.
“Do you need to take that?” her hand waited on the door.
“Nope,” he smiled, nodding at her to continue through the door.
“Alright,” she knocked on the door five times before opening it with her key, waving Shawn in before she closed the door behind him.
There were six computers set up around the room, four being typed away at rapidly by what looked like a room full of coffee addicted druggies. Empty coffee cups littered the room, the room smelling of microwave junk food and latte. Two people were passed out on the bed, clearly taking their much needed break. Looking away from the computers, he realized the room was like an apartment, with a small kitchen, living room, and area for the beds. Every area of spare space was covered in a mess of computers or duffel bags.
“Agent Woodsen, we found this so far,” a miniature version of Carrie handed over a pile of papers, barely acknowledging Shawn with a smile before going back to her desktop.
“Thank you, Agent Romata,” she sat down on the table, all the chairs having been spread out around the room.
“I'd offer you a seat, but as you can see, we are a little tight pressed for space at the moment,” she patted the table space beside her, turning back to read the papers in front of her.
“What's that?” he asked, picking up a paper she had just set down.
“Mmm, location possibilities. Areas scarcely populated, low on police resources, lots of open space to hide a set up.”
“He isn't hiding,” her head popped up by his response, watching as he tossed the paper back on the table like it was useless.
“If he didn't want to be found, we would never find him. But he isn't hiding. He's threatening us – specifically, me. He's taunting us, wants us wasting our time searching for his hide out. But there isn't one. He's better than that.”
“So what are we looking for?” she set the papers down, everyone in the room now focused on Shawn.
“May I?” he walked over to the whiteboard, picking up a marker before getting a response. He started to scribble out options.
“Conclusion one,” he said aloud as he wrote, “even if he isn't directly hiding, he isn't somewhere he thinks we'll ever find him - it'd be too risky after killing three FBI consultants. Which leads me to conclusion two, he is “hiding” somewhere he doesn't think any of us will look. Conclusion three, he is hiding somewhere we have found him before, somewhere he knows we will blow off because we caught him there before, leading me to my final conclusion: he is where this all started,” Shawn looked a little sick by his conclusion.
“You don't have to go,” Woodsen whispered softly, having come over by his shoulder.
“No, I have to. I have to find him. Why else would he leave me alive? No, this is between us, he knows I'm the only one that can stop him.” They both shared a hopeless glance a moment before realizing someone had come to stand in front of them.
“How are you so sure that is where he is? We've poured hours into this, and you have an answer in three minutes after barely even glancing at the case file,” it was Agent Romata, not exactly staring daggers at Shawn, but not accepting his answer either.
“Because I spent a few hours with the man,” he shuddered at the memory, Woodsen reaching over to touch his arm, “I know how he thinks.”
“Karen, what is going on?” it wasn't an unusual sight for Henry to come roaring into the station, but it was when no one had called him.
“Henry, what's the matter?” she stepped out of her office a moment, beckoning for him to come in. For a brief moment, she remembered how odd this was, welcoming her old partner into her office. It was always brief, but she sometimes wondered why Henry wasn't sitting in the seat she currently occupied.
“Shawn isn't answering any of my calls, and Gus told me some FBI agent had come and taken him away. Why did the FBI arrest Shawn?” Henry clenched the arms of the chair, his knuckles almost white.
“Henry, relax. The FBI didn't arrest Shawn. We were discussing a case, and an agent showed up to take back our case file. He went with her willing, but he wouldn't tell us why,” now Henry could hear the edge in Karen's voice.
“Oh,” he had to think a minute, “wait, why would the FBI be here to get a file?”
“Because apparently the case was never supposed to have found it's way to my desk...” Karen folded her hands together, thinking.
“You don't think...” Henry and Karen jumped to the conclusion at the same time.
“Detectives Lassiter, O'hara, get the security footage for my office to my desk pronto!” Karen had shoved her door open, startling the two detectives and Gus, who had been trying to quietly discuss the pondering mystery of Shawn and his agent friend.
“Yes, sir!” Lassiter called, already turning to head down to security.
“Why does she need footage of her office?” Juliet wondered aloud, following behind with Gus.
“I don't know, maybe someone played a prank on her,” Gus offered without thinking.
“Gus, this is police station. We don't “play pranks” on each other the way you and Shawn do,” Juliet flashed him a look.
“Especially on the Chief, unless you were trying to get fired,” Lassiter offered from up a head, having heard everything clearly.
“It was just an idea,” Gus muttered, Juliet smiling slightly by the comment.
Lassiter placed the tape in the player, stepping back as the chief pressed play with the remote. Their mouths all dropped.
Ten minutes before the Chief had gotten in, Coligan had calmly walked into her office, placed the file on her desk, waved at the camera and walked back out.
“He waved,” everyone turned to look at Henry, “he knew we'd find out. He wants us to know...”
“But why?” Juliet questioned, still staring at the now frozen screen.
“Because he thinks he's winning,” Lassiter's face curled into a slight snarl.
“Has anyone heard from Mr.Spencer since yesterday's events?” the Chief reached over for her phone.
Gus shrugged, Juliet shook her head. Lassiter was the only one to give a verbal response.
“Why the hell would Spencer be contacting me?” which made an affirmative no on his part.
“Mr.Guster, see if you can get a hold of Mr.Spencer, would you please?” Gus nodded in her direction.
He listened to the rings intently, nervous his friend wouldn't pick up. He hid a sigh of relief as he heard someone pick up on the other side.
“Shawn's phone, Romata speaking,” Gus did a double take as a woman answered.
“Who are you and why do you have Shawn's phone?” Gus's alarm made everyone turn towards him, concern spreading across their faces.
“Buddy, relax, I couldn't reach my phone for a minute,” Gus visibly relaxed as his friend made himself known.
“Shawn! Don't do that to me!” Gus was still shouting, whether or not he was aware of it.
“Gus! Would you rather I had let it go to voicemail? Now apologize, you've made poor Agent Romata nervous.” Gus could hear in the background a slight squabble before the woman was back. He apologized, and he could tell she was relieved to hand the phone back off to Shawn.
“Shawn, stop traumatizing your....uh, your...”
“Agents, dude,” he could tell something was off with Shawn, but decided to ignore it.
“Anyway, we are all wondering what we can do to help,” Gus blinked as the phone went silent, “Shawn?”
“Try again,” it was another woman.
“Romata, hand the phone back to Shawn please!” Gus tried to keep his voice level, but it was rather hard when dealing with his friend.
“Oh, bad choice, try 'Carrie Woodsen'. Look, you and your friends should relax. We have this handled,” the phone call ended.
“Shawn?” Gus tried anyway. Nope, it was definitely done.
“Woodsen told me they have it handled,” Gus said meekly, afraid to enrage the wrath of the Chief. He was surprised when she didn't explode, but simply sat back down and pulled out another file.
“Well, I suppose we will just have to make do without Mr.Spencer, then, won't we?” she handed Lassiter two files.
“I need you to solve these cases for me, and to not work on Spencer's case whatsoever, understood?” the Chief raised her eyebrows over at Lassiter and O'hara, her eyes speaking louder than her words.
“Yes, Chief!” O'hara took one of the files, nodding slowly as if in agreement.
“Of course. I don't like Spencer that much anyway,” Lassiter's comment only earned him an elbow in the ribs from his partner.
“I don't want to see you two back in my office until those two cases are solved, understood?” more raised eyebrows. Now both detectives just nodded, somewhat uncertain. They rushed out to their desks to figure out what exactly they were holding.
“These files are...blank?” Juliet looked over at Lassiter. Gus had now come trailing out after them.
“So where do we start?” he sat down in Lassiter's chair.
“Guster, get out of my chair!” Lassiter came over to shove him out, sitting down in his place, pointing at the chair across from his desk. Gus, acting ruffled, went over to sit down in the chair, Juliet remaining standing beside them.
“We start with figuring out exactly where Spencer is now,” Lassiter offered bluntly, already typing into his computer.
“Shawn,” he looked over at Woodsen, their eyes locking. He nodded once, fingering the 9mm Glock that had been unofficially issued to him. They were standing outside the target location, a slight breeze in the air. Nothing was moving around the house.
“Go,” her voice was barely above a whisper. They inched their way towards the doors of the mansion, slipping between shrubs and cars alike that stood vacated in the driveway. Already Shawn could tell something was off. Three cars sat empty in front of the house, one door jarred slightly open. The doors of the mansion were banging in the wind, as if someone had left in enough hurry to forget to pull them shut.
They darted through the doors, Woodsen heading left as Shawn went right.
“Clear!” she called as she found the dining room and living room vacated. She waited for Shawn's voice, counting the seconds. Five, six, seven, eight...She was already rushing towards his side of the house, uncertainty eating at her. There hadn't been any gunshots...yet.
She kept her gun at the ready, casting quick glances at the stairs as she rushed across the entryway. Empty.
“Shawn?” she called, her voice echoing across the house, sounding lonely.
“Shawn!” she cried out a little more desperate. Where was he? She rushed into the kitchen, the Glock he'd been issued sprawled out in the floor. The sickening scent of chloroform hung just faintly in the air.
“Dang it!” she yanked out her radio, “Woodsen here, I need backup, ASAP!” Static.
“Romata, can you hear me?” No reply.
“IS ANYONE THERE?” she shrieked into the radio. No answer. Six agents should have been sitting by their radios at the ready for anything.
She rushed out the doors, realizing the van of agents that should have been right behind them wasn't here. Slipping behind the wheel of her car, she scrambled to start it, trying to hold herself together. 'Where was everyone?' was the only thought running through her head. She spun dirt under her tires as she hit the gas, her fingers already dialing the hotel. Fear had completely consumed her, amplified when no one answered the phone.
Letting out a string of curses, she pressed her foot down on the gas, willing the car to move even faster back towards the hotel.
Hey :) Thanks for the reviews so far, they've been awesome! Here is the next chapter! I'm gonna put a slight warning for language, and a slight warning for some graphic-ness I suppose I'll call it lol.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original psych characters/plot/setting, all of which belong solely to the original author/creator. No copyright infringement is intended in the creation of this piece.
“Anything yet?” Juliet asked from her desk across the precinct, Lassiter sighing in exasperation.
“No, nothing!” he was suppressing the urge to shoot his computer, an urge he had to subdue for various things on a daily basis.
“Wait...the FBI are federal, right? So they are run by the government?” Gus looked up excitedly from his phone.
“Thanks for stating the obvious, Guster. What's your point?”
“We've been checking out cheap motels and bed and breakfasts. We never thought to check the higher end hotels where federal officers get to stay when they are called in to investigate out of their usual jurisdiction,” Gus held up his phone, showing the website of a hotel.
“Why that one, Gus?” Juliet asked, biting her lip. She was trying hard not to show it, but she had been worried since Shawn had disappeared out those doors after that agent.
“Because I just read one of the reviews, and I quote, 'My family had reservations for three months in advanced for this hotel for this weekend, and out of the blue two days before we were supposed to leave they postponed our reservations indefinitely.' and they gave it zero stars,” Gus sat back smugly, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“So you think the FBI managed to get a room there?” Juliet blinked, trying hard not to ogle. FBI had it's perks.
“Worth a shot,” Lassiter grabbed his keys off his desk in one hand and his jacket in the other.
“And if we're wrong?” Juliet crossed her arms.
“Then we are still were we started,” Lassiter lead the way out of the precinct, Juliet unable to rebut anything to his response.
After bypassing the valet, (Lassiter squawking vehemently at the poor kid on duty that over his dead body would that kid even dream of touching his car), and expressing to the manager that it was of great importance the SBPD learned where the FBI headquarters were, they had a room number.
They walked up to the room, apprehension building as they realized that the door had been busted open. Wood was splintered around the lock, the door sitting open several inches. Juliet and Lassiter waved Gus back, running silently the last few paces to the door.
“SBPD, anyone in there?” Lassiter yelled. They heard muffled shouting. Pushing open the door, they found a room filled with computers, and five tied up and gagged agents.
“Sweet justice, what happened her?” Lassiter whistled.
“Where's Shawn?” Juliet asked, horror growing in her belly. Gus exchanged a worried glance with her.
“Coligan has him,” they all jumped around towards the door, finding themselves face to face with agent Woodsen, who stood leaning against the door, completely out of breath.
He remembered vaguely stepping around the corner into the kitchen, the fridge blocking his view slightly, his gun held level. He remembered someone jumping out in front of him, knocking the gun to the ground. He remembered not being able to shout, another, much larger person grabbing him from behind, wrapping a towel doused in chloroform around his face. He remembered trying to fight it before finally succumbing to the effects of the drugs, his eyes falling shut, the feeling of falling towards the ground.
He didn't remember how he got in this dark room, or how he was tied to the chair. He didn't remember who put him here, or how long he had been here.
He groaned as he began to wake up, the edges of his mind fuzzy. Moments came in and out of focus, his mind still begging him to continue sleeping, while the emotions of his logic screamed at him to wake up. He jumped, eyes flashing open as he was – as far as he could assume – slapped across the face, pulling back against the ropes that held him firmly in place.
“Wake up, Shawn!” it was a woman's voice.
“Wha...” he looked around slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
“Finally!” he flinched as his eyes focused on the figure that was sitting less than six feet in front of him.
“Surprised, are you? I was surprised that with you being a psychic and all you didn't call me out sooner,” he started linking voices and names in his mind, shock and a sense of betrayal settling in as he made a match.
“Romata,” he had to cough slightly to clear his throat.
“Hey, Shawn, how's it going?” she laughed cockily, smiling over at him, chewing on a piece of gum, crossing her legs and leaning forward to lean her head on her hand.
1 hour earlier
“What do you mean, Coligan has him?” Gus was already up in Woodsen's face, the winded agent moving to untie her comrades as they sat struggling on the floor.
“Shawn figured out where Coligan was hiding out, and we went to check it out. Our backup was supposed to be right behind us...where's Romata?” she realized that her right hand man was no where to be found.
“She went out when you told her to call in the backup, and didn't come back,” a finally de-gagged agent snorted out.
“So no one has seen-”
“I'm here!” everyone once again jumped and faced the door, Agent Romata breezing into the room to stop dead.
“What happened?” she said, blinking in surprise.
“Coligan happened,” Woodsen snorted, “and where was that backup I told you to call in? I trusted you, Agent Romata, and now Shawn has to pay the price for your stupidity!” the head agent screamed, Romata cowering slightly.
“I-I called in the backup. They told me they were right behind you guys,” her voice had become almost hoarse.
“Well, they most definitely were not!” Woodsen shouted, turning away from everyone to run a hand over her face.
“Maybe Coligan hacked into the phones and had his men answer,” Gus offered slowly.
“Maybe. But where did you go, Agent Romata? Why weren't you all tied up with the rest of my agents?” Woodsen turned to face her once again.
“I-” she was cut off by a phone.
“Woodsen here,” Woodsen snarled into the phone, a glare towards Romata telling her this wasn't over.
“Well, we don't want to be too snippy here, do we? You don't want poor Shawn here to pay for your arrogance, do you?”
“Coligan,” she said his name with pure hatred resounding through her voice, putting her phone on speaker.
“Now, don't get too hopeful here, this isn't a ransom call. Actually, you all probably won't ever see Shawn again. This is more a call to gloat,” his voice was like a laughing hiss, whispered and joking all at the same time.
“We found you once, Coligan, and we'll find you again.”
“Correction: Shawn found me once, and Shawn isn't going to be available for consultation anytime soon I'm afraid. This was just to say I enjoyed our game greatly, and soon, I'll be enjoying many more. To the many battles we face!” the call went dead.
“Son of a bitch!” Woodsen slammed her phone down on the table.
“Agent Woodsen, we will find him,” everyone turned to look at Juliet, her voice small but her eyes burning.
“Yes, yes we will. Now, Romata, where were we?” The younger agent went back to cowering again.
“I...was,” she cleared her throat, “I was out clearing my head.”
“For the entire debacle?” Woodsen looked ready to murder now, “you left while Shawn and I went to investigate a potential hide out, completely missing out on all of your coworkers being gagged and tied up, and our consultant being kidnapped, and you are telling me you weren't here because you needed to clear your head?” Woodsen was flat out snarling by the end.
“Y-yes,” Romata stammered, her back now against a wall. Woodsen let out another sigh of exasperation, turning away as if losing interest in her prey.
“Romata, you are dismissed. You will head back to headquarters tonight, and I will deal with you when this is over.” Trembling Romata ran to her already packed bags, zipping them shut and rushing out the door without so much as lifting her eyes. No one saw the smile on her face as she tore down the hallway.
“Don't you think that's a little harsh? Even if she had stayed she only would have ended tied up-” Lassiter realized at once he should have never started as Woodsen turned his way, eyes blazing.
“Detective, if you want to criticize my actions, go right a head. I didn't realize that the precinct was so lax on it's codes that it allows officers of the law to carelessly allow their comrades to be kidnapped and still be allowed to continue in their duties.” Lassiter shut up.
“Thank you. Now, at this point, I have hit my desperation. Ordinarily, I never would consider allowing detectives in on this case, but under the circumstances, I don't feel as though I have any other choice.”
She walked over to the whiteboard, turning it over to expose the case. Three little gasps were heard behind her.
“Nathan Coligan, entrepreneur and ex-CEO of Coligan Enterprises, an investment company that went under when we exposed it as the front to his human trafficking organization. As we all know, he now has someone of value to all of us, Special Agent Shawn Spencer, retired SAC of the California FBI.”
The room was dark when he awoke again. Romata was gone. Her words were still ringing in his head.
“Congrats, Shawn, you found us! Too bad you didn't figure it out sooner,” she mocked him openly, his hands bunching into fists in his chair.
“Tsk, tsk, Shawn! Look at your manners! Really, you need to learn to lighten up!” she stood up now, crossing the room. She poured a glass of water from a faucet.
“Want a drink?” she walked back over towards him, balancing lightly on a pair of six inch heels. Definitely not the kind of shoes you saw in most agents closets, except for maybe the occasional night out.
He only narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, refusing to open his mouth, (something quite rare in Shawn's world).
“Look, as much fun as it would be to...play, with you, that's not our intention. We don't want you dead. Here, watch,” she took a sip of the water, smiling over at him before offering it to his lips. He drank half of it before tearing himself away, taking a couple of deep breaths.
“Well...it's a start,” she looked half amused and half annoyed. She put the glass back by the sink, going back over to her chair.
“What do you want from me?” Shawn snorted, flexing his arms under the ropes, trying to see if there was any potential of working them loose.
“You'll find out soon enough,” she smiled. He kept working at the ropes, testing them as furtively as possible.
“I wouldn't bother, Shawn. We only have you tied up for your safety,” she crossed her arms, leaning back coolly in her chair. He bit back a sigh of annoyance. Apparently, he wasn't being furtive enough.
“What do you mean?”
“After you get yourself untied, there are four locked and guarded doors you'd have to get through,” her eyes flicked over to the window well over their heads, “out that window we have two dogs and of course, another guard, and that isn't even bringing up the extra guards we have wandering the property for any signs of trouble. There is. No. Escape,” she emphasized the last words, her smile turning into a menacing snarl.
“Why am I here?” he whispered softly. He was searching her face desperately for some sign of a bluff, something that showed her lying to him. He couldn't find one.
“You don't believe me about the guards, do you?” she was ignoring his question. She stood up, Shawn watching as she walked across the dark room.
“Julio! Can you come down here a minute?” she called up a flight of stairs. A light flared on, Shawn blinking blindly. After a minute a monster of a man came stomping down the stairs, an automatic rifle resting openly in his meaty hands.
“We need to take our guest on a little tour,” she gestured for him to untie their prisoner, Shawn leaning away from the man unconsciously as he came looming over him.
They chained his hands and feet together, like they would a prisoner being transferred. Shawn hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, receiving only a smack to the back of his head. He continued.
It was just like she said, at the top of the stairs was a locked door, where Julio had been on guard. Down that hall was another locked door, with yet another guard, who eyed him suspiciously as he walked past. Shawn found himself inching towards Julio at the sight of him.
After that was a set of doors down a long hallway, Romata emphasizing her excitement as she showed him each and every door was locked. After seeing what was behind them, however, he wasn't sure why he'd be trying to get into those particular rooms anyway. Each door in the long hallway was an entrance to a guards room, with at least two or three guards in each, all ready for action at any cry of alarm.
The last door that lead outside was locked in four places, four guards standing by maliciously.
Outside, the two dogs immediately started snarling at him, two large black German Shepherds, both straining against their chains to get a bite at him. They were both chained loosely enough to both reach the window. A guard waved at him from a small balcony above, Shawn only able to return a half wave due to the chains, (which only received another smack).
“Now do you believe me?” Romata smiled cockily at him from the top of the stairs. He stared back at her with what could only be assumed as hatred.
“Don't bother tying him back up, he won't be a problem,” she opened the door, indicating for Shawn to reenter. He tensed as he felt a hand on his shoulder, shouting as he was shoved harshly down the stairs, unable to try and block his fall with his hands and feet tied. As he lay at the bottom, he faintly heard yelling at the top, his vision fading in and out. He only heard snippets of what was being said.
“...crazy? He has to remain alive and...”
“...Shawn? Shawn, I'm so sorry...”
“No!” that was the final thing in his mind, a firm, resounding no.
Disclaimer: I don't own any original psych characters/settings which rightfully belong to the original author. This story is in no way associated with the owners, authors, or any media franchise. There is no copyright infringement intended by this story.
Yay, finally had time to work on Chapter 5! Warnings for Shawn Whump lol :)
He woke up with a small start, groaning immediately by how sore he felt, feeling sore muscles he didn't even know he had. Looking around slowly, he was expecting to be lying at the bottom of a set of stairs in chains, and was surprised to find that he wasn't. Instead, he found his back against something soft, looking down to find himself on a mattress. He attempted to sit up, but letting out a small cry of pain, fell back onto the bed, panting, listening as door creaked open, and a set of feet came running down the stairs.
“Shawn? Shawn, are you awake?” it was Romata, a tray in her hands.
“No thanks to you,” he muttered weakly, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead from his short and futile attempts and getting a better view of the room. She came down beside him, setting the tray on a small table beside his makeshift bed.
“Shawn, I'm so sorry, Julio wasn't supposed to do that!” He flicked a curious eye over her, suspicious to her apparent guilt. It seemed genuine, but she had fooled him before.
“Look, Coligan won't let us bring you to a doctor...We think you have a concussion and a broken leg-”
“Try a couple of broken ribs too,” Shawn said with ill-humor, mixed with some added laughing and coughing.
“Shawn?” Romata sounded concerned now, her hand reaching over to touch his forehead.
“I'm not crazy, this is just the weirdest kidnapping ever. Oh no! We hurt our hostage!” he was attempting to laugh again.
Romata didn't know what to say, her eyes watching her wounded prisoner carefully.
“Danielle, can I call you Danielle?” Shawn turned to look at her, his eyes twinkling as well as they could through the haze of pain covering them.
“Who told you my first name?” she stepped back like he'd slapped her.
“No one,” he said nonchalantly, trying to adjust himself to lay comfortably on the mattress. Nothing seemed to be working, but he tried anyway, fidgeting from pain and irritation.
“How did you know my name?” she stepped closer again, crossing one arm over her chest.
“I'm psychic, remember?”
“I don't believe that bull, Shawn. I know you aren't actually a psychic. I worked for the FBI too you know,” Romata pulled a chair over, plopping down in it. Shawn eyed her carefully before giving.
“I just remembered I saw it on a document when you were being recruited for field training,” he leaned back against his pillow, closing his eyes. It was slowly becoming harder to keep them open.
“That was years ago,” she whispered, gaping at the man laying in front of her.
“Yup. Photographic memory,” Shawn yawned, pain screaming from his ribs as he did.
“Here,” she pushed two pills into his hands, getting up to get him a cup of water.
“What?” Shawn looked down groggily at the white objects in his hands.
“Pain killers, nothing strong but it's all we have right now,” she helped him swallow the pills, watching as he dropped back down into a fitful sleep. She bit her lip. Why am I doing this?
“Can you reach the tray okay? It's only a sandwich, but it's better than nothing,” she turned around as Shawn nodded, biting her lip.
She shook her head, determination filling her eyes. No, I have to be right. He wasn't meant to be injured, nobody else will be. I'll make sure of it...I'm right. I have to be. For her. She left, her mind beginning a war of moral and greed as she slammed the door behind her, disregarding the fact that it may wake Shawn.
“FBI? What do you mean, FBI?” Lassiter snorted.
“Where do you think Shawn and I met, a coffee shop? Did he seriously not tell you guys anything about his past, anything at all?”
“All I know is he showed up at my door about six months ago. He collapsed right in front of me, claiming he was in some sort of accident. He never liked to talk about it,” Gus sighed, feeling a sense of guilt from deep down inside, wondering if maybe he had just pushed his friend a little harder none of them would be in this position.
“That “accident” he collapsed from – gosh, he can be so stupid – you know, he made us release him from the hospital with an AMA form,” she laughed, breaking away from her chain of thought.
“It wasn't an accident, was it?” Juliet asked softly, bringing the agent back on track.
“No. No it was not. It was much, much worse than that. A week before Shawn showed up at your door, Gus, he spent four days as Coligan's prisoner. When we found him, we couldn't believe he was even alive...he only spent two days in the hospital and then he quit and took off.”
“And you let him?” Lassiter spat.
“Of course not! Not entirely. We kept tabs, had agents periodically check up on him. We made sure he made it home okay...well, alright, mostly okay, but there wasn't much else we could do. We had his statement, and you know how he can get...”
“He needed your help, and you let him down. That's what happened,” Gus crossed his arms.
“We did our best...you of all people should know what Shawn's like sometimes, he would barely talk to us, let alone listen to what we had to say!”
Gus just glared back at her. She sighed.
“Look, I'm not sure if this is even my story to tell, but I don't I have much of a choice anymore due to our current situation. I only know what he told me, but even that feels like a lot sometimes...” Woodsen sat down, taking a sip of water. This was gonna be a long story.
0o0o0o0 Flashback 6 months earlier - Shawn 0o0o0o0
He'd been trying not to think about it. He didn't want to think about the first time, but there wasn't much else to do, seeing as his unattended broken leg probably wasn't going to be his ally in any sort of escape. The pain killers making him drowsy, he didn't really have much choice but let his mind fall pray to his past.
The first two years after he left, he messed around, job jumped, kept himself entertained by traveling whenever he felt the wind change direction. He wasn't really sure how it had happened, but it had, the way things always happened with Shawn. Right place, wrong time. All it took was a called in anonymous tip on the wrong case, and the FBI tracked him down as a suspect. It took two weeks, but after clearing him of being a suspect, they gained different interests, offering him an in. For some reason, he took it. Maybe he was tired of running around, maybe he enjoyed having something solid to fall back on while running around, in any case, he found somewhere he was needed, and for some reason, that felt like enough. So for the last six years, he stayed.
Now he was on a human trafficking case, his partner, Carrie Woodsen, having called him in on a lead, only to find them separated at the scene. He didn't know if she was captured or even alive.
He at least knew he was alive, or he was mostly certain of it anyway. He was tied to a chair, blood dripping down his face from a cut on his forehead, the only light in the room a single bulb hanging above him.
He didn't know how long he'd been there, or if anyone even knew he was missing yet. If his partner was dead...they might not notice they were gone until it was too late.
“Mr.Spencer, nice to finally make your acquaintance,” a figure stepped into the light, a smooth voice cutting through the darkness. He didn't have a chance to flinch when he found a fist in his gut, a small grunt escaping his lips.
He knew deep down inside, it was only the beginning.
Woodsen – Present
“I called him in on a lead, he got kidnapped at the scene. We'd been partners for close to four years, it was...nerve wrecking, to say the least. I'd gotten my partner captured, but for some reason, I was still free. At the time, it didn't make any sense...until Coligan called with his offer.”
“I want you to drop the case and let me walk. If you don't, Shawn dies. Your choice.” The phone went dead in her hands.
“Shawn told me later that Coligan didn't consider me a threat, thinking that if he got rid of Shawn the case would be in shambles. Let's put it this way...I got mad. Very mad. I hunted down Coligan with help from Shawn's case file, and went after him. I found...well...I got to Coligan first. He was laughing, laughing so hard...and it was all I could hear, walking into that basement...”
He seemed to enjoy it, Coligan. He seemed to enjoy beating him, crumpling Shawn's flesh and bones under his fists.
Shawn closed his eyes, breathing deeply. If he could focus, he could get through this.
“Come on, Shawn, tell me what you know.”
He kept his mouth shut. More punches, more pain, more struggle. Coligan had been trying to get Shawn to talk for three days now, trying to get him to tell anything and everything about the FBI's case against him.
“Tell me what you know about the case!” the voice that had been so smooth became the sound of fingers scratching on a chalkboard, screeching through his head.
As soon as he talked, he was dead. So Shawn did something highly un-Shawn like: he remained silent until it all went black.
There were heels on the stairs. He tensed in his chair, looking down at his feet, trying to mentally prepare himself for what he knew was coming next.
“Shawn?” he looked up, incredulous, confused, dazed. Carrie?
“Carrie, you have to get our of here, he's coming back,” Shawn started laughing. And laughing.
“Shawn?” she knelt down in front of him, brushing blood from his cheek, “Shawn!” he wouldn't stop laughing. She felt his forehead, shocked by how hot he felt. He must have been delirious.
“Carrie, you are sooo beautiful,” he whispered, searching her eyes. What he found must have disappointed him because he stopped looking.
“Shawn, did he give you something? What did he give you?” she put a hand on his knee, yanking it back when he shouted hoarsely in pain.
“N-nothing. I don't think. I can't remember,” the pain seemed to make him focus.
“Shawn, just hang on, we have an ambulance coming,” she whispered.
“We got him to a hospital, he gave us his statement...he didn't remember most of what happened – or at least, that's what he told us. He said he stopped counting how many times Coligan punched him. It was....well, I understand why he retired from the FBI afterward,” she didn't tell them what else Shawn had told her when she found him, half dead, barely breathing. I love you. She still shivered from the words.
“So...Shawn is now in the hands of his worst nightmare?” Lassiter blinked, the story still reeling through his mind.
“Pretty much. I never should have...” Woodsen paused a moment, “I never should have called him back in on this case. I thought we could protect him...I should have heeded our own advice. No one can be protected from Coligan.”
“We need to get back to the precinct, see what we can uncover,” Lassiter ushered them out the door. When Woodsen turned to wait for Juliet, she found the detective watching her carefully, the young blond following her partner out somewhat stiffly.
Shawn had been struggling with the memories all night. He told them he didn't remember, but those moments were crumpling the dam and flooding his mind. It didn't help that his whole body hurt, the pain killer having done little to nothing. Or maybe he was still under the influences of the pain killer? How long had it been since he had fallen asleep?
The images were still playing over and over in his mind.
“Shawn, hang on, we have an ambulance coming,” she had said, her hand resting beside his own the chair.
“Carrie?” she turned back towards him. He felt his breath hitch in his chest, and he couldn't tell if it was the broken ribs or the way her eyes seemed to make his heart race in his chest.
“I love you,” it was the last thing he remembered before it all went black.
“Shawn?” he cracked open his eyes, a shadow suddenly standing over him.
“Ro-Romata?” he gasped out. Looking her over, he realized she now had a black eye forming with a small cut under her left cheek.
“Shawn...” she fell silent.
“Why are you doing this?” he looked up at the dark ceiling.
“He told me that he could help me. That I was better than just your average field agent, that I could be so much more-”
“Romata, please,” Shawn looked over at her, “I was honest about how I knew your name, just give me the same courtesy. You already know I'm gonna die, so it doesn't matter what you say, anyway. I won't tell,” his voice became hallow on the last sentence.
“He told me that if I helped him he could get me back my sister,” she whispered softly.
“She was kidnapped when I was fourteen from our home in Mexico...I made it to the states on a visa, and she...well, we never found her.”
“And Coligan promised he could bring her back if you helped him get an upper hand in the agency,” even in the darkness he could see her nod.
“He's lying,” he finally whispered.
“I know. Now, anyway. If I leave, I...they won't let me. They'll kill me. I...I never did this to hurt anybody...I just wanted to see my sis-” she cut off as a small sob claimed her words.
“It's okay, it's gonna be alright,” he wasn't sure if he even believed it, but it seemed to subdue her sobs.
“Do you want more pain medicine?”
He nodded slowly. Pouring two pulls out of a bottle, she helped him take them, flinching when she saw how painful it was for him.
“Danielle...he's gonna do this to more sisters, to more families, unless you help me stop him. Help me get out of here, and I can take him down,” he whispered.
“I'll...” she turned away a moment, “I'll see what I can do. I think one of the guards is sweet on me, he might let me send someone something with his phone...”
“Try,” Shawn let a groan of pain escape.
“I promise,” she squeezed his hand before turning and darting upstairs. He could only lay and hope that she meant it.
Disclaimer: All original characters, settings, etc belong to their proper owner. Original characters belong to their author. I am not associated with any owners or media franchise. No copy right infringement intended by the creation of this piece.
Okay, so here's chapter 6! Sorry it's been almost a week lol
“Where is my son?”
The Chief sighed deeply as she heard her retired partner come storming into the precinct. Even though he and Shawn had a fairly rocky relationship, (and his dad would refuse to admit this if told aloud), he was quite protective of his son. Of course, Shawn never had to deal with said protective father when he went missing.
“We are working on that as we speak, Henry,” she turned around slowly, tapping her fingers on her desk to indicate her displeasure at his less than orthodox greeting. He didn't appear to notice.
“First he disappears with the FBI, and now he's been kidnapped? Gus just called me-”
“Henry!” making a mental note to kill Mr.Guster later, the Chief came out from behind her desk, still standing inches shorter than the frantic man in front of her.
“We are going to find him. Alright?” she looked him straight in the eye. Taking a deep breath, he nodded back at her, fear and concern blazing though his eyes.
Of course, it didn't help that she herself hadn't found out what had happened until about a half hour ago, from a fairly disheveled group of two detectives, one agent, and one civilian. They were currently occupying the conference room, trying to find a lead out of thin air to follow. She could hear them arguing from her office, which took her attention away from the man standing in front of her.
“No! There is no way that Coligan would hide there!” Woodsen sighed in exasperation.
“We can't rule out anything, especially since Coligan has already managed to hide under your nose!” Lassiter slammed his hand down on the table in response.
“Wait...guys-” Gus was quickly cut off.
“What about if he took Shawn out of state?” Woodsen pulled up a screen showing a map of the United States. Pinpoints of red were scattered across it.
“What is the red?” Lassiter walked around to get a better view.
“Those are the previous locations of Coligan's...warehouses, let's put it.” There were over a hundred different locations spread throughout the country.
“This is hopeless,” Lassiter sighed, plopping down in a chair.
“For now, we have to pray that Coligan hasn't had time to move Shawn out yet. He has clients from all across the border, we'll be lucky if Shawn is still in the country by the end of the week,” Woodsen bit back her irritation this time.
“I think that I have-”
“Well, we can put out BOLOs in the airports,” Juliet turned to pick up the phone.
“GUYS!” Gus finally shouted, dragging their attention towards him. Juliet dropped the phone with a clatter on the table, Lassiter and Woodsen turning towards the frustrated man with something little akin to shock.
“Mr.Guster?” Lassiter managed to say.
“Look what I just got,” he held up his phone, an email displayed across the screen.
Hey, old friends. Thought Shawn might be in a spot of trouble, especially when I received this. Thought I'd pass it along.
It was an emailed flier proclaiming an auction. The front of it was a picture of Shawn, tied and gagged in a chair. The date at the bottom was a week from when the email was sent, less than an hour ago.
“Sweet justice, they're going to auction Shawn off-”
“And make the bidding available to every criminal Shawn has ever arrested or helped put away,” Gus added, reading the heading at the bottom. Revenge sale. Get your psychic fresh.
“No...” Juliet gasped.
“Is there a location?” Lassiter snatched the phone away, reading the flier up and down.
“There won't be. Coligan is smarter than that. Gathering that many criminals in one place? It's asking for a load of trouble. No, the bidding will be all online, with the option of delivery or pick up at the end of it,” Woodsen stood up, taking the phone calmly from Lassiter. Emailing herself a copy, she replaced the phone in Lassiter's hand, turning to make a call on her own.
“I need someone from code breaking to look at the email I just sent back to the databases, and I need results ASAP. We have a life on the line here,” she jabbered into the phone. Behind her, Lassiter had the same idea.
“Get this down to our team, tell them this email is their new top priority, nothing else matters except cracking this flier!” Lassiter sent the email, sending along with it a young officer scurrying to the tech lab to convey instructions.
“If we don't figure out where Spencer is in...six days and twenty-two hours, he's a goner,” Lassiter leaned against a chair, shutting his eyes.
This, of course, was when Henry decided to walk in, having overhead everything without their knowledge, the Chief standing behind him with a hand slapped over her face. Four heads turned towards the blazing red one, all knowing deep down inside, this wasn't going to be pretty.
When Shawn woke up again, there was a light on in the room. Numerous feet stomped down the stairs, and for a brief moment he thought he was rescued, feeling only bitter disappointment as he realized it was nothing even close to a rescue. It was Coligan with a set of guards, Romata trotting along behind them like a lost puppy.
“You promised me you weren't going to hurt him!” she cried out, seeming aghast.
“Promises are meant to be broken, my dear. If you are that naïve I don't know how you ever made it as an agent,” his voice was smooth, easy to listen to, easy to believe. It still sent shivers down Shawn's spine. Romata had fallen silent, and he couldn't be certain whether it was because she knew it was pointless arguing or because she believed what he said to be true.
“Up,” it took him a minute to realize that Coligan was speaking to him.
“He has a broken leg-” Romata started, cut off by a wave of Coligan's hand.
“Up!” he said it again with emphasis, nudging Shawn's broken ribs with the tip of his steel toed boat. Groaning, Shawn struggled to his feet, gasping from the effort. His leg must only have been fractured if he could still manage an ounce of weight on it, he realized slowly.
“Now, you've caused me a lot of trouble, Shawn. Shut down my operation, put me behind bars, turned practically the whole country against me. Now, fortunately for me and unfortunately for you, you have also caused a lot of other people trouble,” Coligan had a wicked smile on his face, “therefore, you will be the beginning of my new operation!”
“What operation?” Shawn took a couple shallow breaths, keeping all his weight on his good leg.
“My newest idea, the capture and sale of FBI agents, cops, certain meddling consultants,” Coligan waved his hands at Shawn, waiting for Shawn's inevitable question. Shawn only smirked, (although it came out as more of a grimace).
“What is this, an episode of Scooby Doo? Last time I checked, I wasn't apart of any meddling teenage crime team. Although, I suppose if we got a dog, we'd have enough people-” Shawn fell back on the mattress with a short lived cry as Coligan slapped him across the face.
“Don't waste my time, Shawn.”
“Fine. Since you clearly wanted a specific question, what sale?” Shawn grit his teeth, trying to control the pain from his jostled ribs.
“Thank you! See how many easier it is to work with me? And to answer your question, sale by auction. I capture the pests of the criminal world, and I make them available to the people who were annoyed. Of course, with you being the first product of my business, I'm sure you won't sell for much, but we'll have fun with this anyway.” Shawn swallowed has Coligan smiled down at him.
“Now, now, Shawn, it's rather rude of you to lie down with guests!” Once again, he felt a steel toe dig into his ribs, a small cry tearing from his lips. Laughing, Coligan and his men turned and left the half-conscious Shawn, Shawn watching their feet through slitted eyes. He watched Romata's heels hesitate a moment before she scampered after them, Shawn finally giving into the pain fogging his mind, one last thought echoing in his head. This is bad.
“You mean to tell me that my son is being auctioned off to criminals?” Henry gripped his fingers into fists, his knuckles white.
“Mr.Spencer, we are going to find Shawn. We have some of our best people on top of hacking into the bidding system as we speak.” Woodsen turned away from the white board she had been busily scribbling on, the marker held posed in her hands.
“Well, while they search, so will we. Where are we?” he sat down in a chair, Woodsen turning to stare at him. Everyone else seemed to take this in stride.
“Where are we?” he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
“We know that Shawn is being held by Coligan, and that Coligan has put him on an auction site and emailed it to whom we have assumed are the criminals Shawn has helped put away,” Juliet offered.
“What does that tell us?” Henry pointed at Lassiter.
“That he wants Spencer alive, and is unlikely to kill him in the next week.”
“Good. That's something. We know that Shawn is alive somewhere,” Henry hardly tried to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“Most of the criminals Shawn put away were here in California...” Woodsen started, seeming to lose herself in thought.
“Which means?” Henry prompted.
“They are probably trying to keep him close so that he can be easily 'delivered' to the winner...” she finished.
“Good, so he is still here in California. Now that is progress,” Henry turned to give Lassiter a look.
“What?” Lassiter rolled his eyes in annoyance.
“Yeah, but-” Juliet was cut off by a phone ringing.
“Sorry,” Woodsen pulled her phone out, “Woodsen here. What?” she stood up, pacing slightly. In less than a minute, she ended the call with a gruff, “No one rests until she is found!” She tossed her phone down on the table, plopping back down in the chair.
“Romata never made it back to head quarters.” Everyone was silent.
“Do you think that Coligan took her...?” Juliet asked.
“No. I think she was working with Coligan,” this caused a ripple of surprise between everyone.
“What do you mean?” Lassiter sat down in a chair across from Woodsen.
“Think about it – she wasn't tied up in the room,” she whispered softly, “I just thought she picked a bad time to step out, or maybe the right time, in her case, but I think there is more too it than that. She was so enthusiastic about this case – she practically begged me to be put on it, but she was never around. She questioned everything Shawn said as if to make his leads look bad, and I used her to relay information, which is why backup never came, and why Coligan seemed to know what we were doing every step of the way. The only thing that makes sense is an-”
“Inside man,” Lassiter finished for her. She nodded.
“So, Romata is working on the inside...”
“But for what? What so entices her about Coligan that she'd work for him, and help assist a kidnapping of one of her own?” Woodsen bit her lip.
“That's what we need to find out,” Henry tapped the table with his index finger, leaning back in his chair with determination in his eyes.
“Shawn,” at first he thought he was dreaming, Romata leaning over him, whispering in his ear.
“Romata?” he asked, being immediately shushed by her.
“Quiet, they can't know I'm here...look, I'm gonna get you outta here, but I need you to promise me something first,” their eyes locked.
“What?” his voice felt rusty.
“I need you to promise that if I get you out, you can take down Coligan, and finish this. Forever.”
“Of course I-”
“Promise me, Shawn, promise,” she grabbed his hand, and he realized she was shaking.
“I promise,” he watched her eyes a moment before she escaped back up the stairs, a whispered promise to be back soon leaving her lips before the door clicked shut.
Now he was awake, and feeling fairly lucid. He ran over a list of his known injuries. Probable concussion, definite fractured leg. Even if Romata could get him out, it wouldn't do him any good. His leg was useless. Several of his ribs were probably broken as well, which would do wonders for his endurance.
She told him herself – there was no escape, so whatever she was planning, well, he hoped she had his condition in mind. Without realizing how much just thinking clearly taxed his energy, he faded back into oblivion, the words echoing around in his mind: no escape.
“Guys I think I got something...” Juliet called everyone over to her desk, “look, it's not much, but Danielle Romata used to have a sister before her family immigrated to the United States thirteen years ago.”
“What happened to her?” Woodsen came around to look over Juliet's shoulder, either oblivious to or ignoring when the detectives back stiffened.
“The record claims that she passed away a few months after arriving here, but there is no death certificate to verify it.”
“So, they lied about her sister...why?” Woodsen had a hand to her chin, biting her lip lightly. Juliet wondered how many times Shawn had watched this same sight, shoving the thought aside as her partner voiced his opinion.
“Could it be connected, Coligan and her sister?”
“You think that Coligan kidnapped her sister?”
“Sure, Coligan had several operations down in the Southern California and Mexican border area, it's possible that he kidnapped her sister and sold her in his operation...”
“But what good does it do for Romata to work for Coligan?” Gus pointed out.
“Well...if he took her away, he would know where she went...” Juliet started.
“And if he knows where she went, he could potentially bring her back.” Lassiter finished for his partner.
“And now he's promised Romata that if she helps him have an upper hand in the FBI, he'll track down her sister and bring her back.” Woodsen blinked at the connection.
“But this doesn't get us any closer to finding Shawn,” Gus pointed out the obvious. They knew the why, but it didn't answer the where. The whole group fell silent a moment.
“Yes it does,” Henry finally whispered. Everyone turned to stare at him, “we know that Coligan and Romata worked together to catch Shawn, and that Coligan is lying to Romata...if we can somehow get Romata to understand that Coligan is lying to her...”
“We can get her to become her own double agent, getting her to tell us where they are...if we can even still get in contact with her,” Woodsen whipped out her phone, dialing a number, about to hit send, when an outcry came from outside the room. Everyone turned as the doors flew open, shocked.
“That number won't work anymore, Agent Woodsen,” it was stunned silence as Danielle Romata collapsed before them, blood pooling around her from numerous bullet holes.