I dropped down, paralyzed in pain for a few seconds that the blow to my head had caused. Before I could get up, he kicked me on the side, causing me to roll on my back. This time I heard a crack.
Opening my eyes, I momentarily panic as I realize the lights had been cut off. Luckily, plenty of light poured in from the huge glass window of the Psych office.
Jumping up with a pain jabbing my head, I'm able to block the attacker. Dashing to my desk, I grab a nearby baseball bat. Unfortunately, that's when the attacker decides to pull out a gun.
Remembering back to the last time I was alone with a gun pointed at me, I start talking.
"You know, you can end this now. Just lower the gun and walk out. Take anything you want and leave. I won't tell anyone, pinky promise!' I say, holding up my skinniest finger.
"You're right. I can end this now." I hear, a second before a loud bang, and he crumbles to the ground.
Taking my eyes away from the man on the floor, I see my dad with one of his guns.
"I- I had him."
"Sure you did son." He looks down and instantly freezes in horror, before leaping forward. "Shawn! Watch-"
Another metallic ring and I realize I'm on the floor too. A searing pain, worse than I've ever felt before, attacks my belly.
As everything becomes wibbly wobbly and the pain takes over, I try to concentrate on a certain worried voice. My dad's. He pushes down on my wound, causing it to hurt more, if that was even possible at this point. I can feel the blood flowing out, like a chocolate fountain. I laugh at the strange analogy.
"Shawn! Shawn! Stay with me! Help is on the way! Can you hear me? There we go. Speak to me." He begs.
I muster what little energy I have. "I really don't want to go to Golden Corral anytime soon."
Before I'm even able to open my eyes, I can feel my overly-parched throat.
"Water…" I whisper, and a straw meets my lips.
A few seconds later when I open my eyes, I'm not surprised to be met with Gus and Dad. Always trust that they'd be there.
"Hey buddy." I say.
"Nice to see you've come back. How do you feel?"
"Oh… you know. Tired, pained, all the other clichés."
A few seconds pass awkwardly.
I notice a certain puffiness around my father's eyes. "Hey Dad." I half-smile, but it comes out more of a grimace.
"Shawn." He says. Gus leaves the room for a little privacy.
"The guys dead." He blurts out. For some horrible reason it brings me comfort. "Lassiter was right behind me. He-"
"I love you!" I interrupt.
"What?" he asks, a bit confused.
"I've brushed with death several times before, but not like this. Life is really short, and I've never truly told you how much I love an appreciate you. Plus, dad, you saved my life. Not just prevented certain death again, but saved me when I really needed it…. Thanks." I say as honestly and seriously as I'll ever be in my entire life.
"Well… I love you too Shawn. I honestly don't know what I'm do without you son."
Forgetting anything negative in our past, I realize what a great man he is and how everything he did was to make sure I (and Gus) was safe. That's all he cared about.
"I'm sorry for any and everything." I tell him.
"Me too kid, me too."
"Thanks for saving me life." I whisper.
"Anytime." He replies.
"Can we never speak of this again?"
He chuckles. "Yeah."
As we sit in comfortable silence, I remember one more thing.
"How did you know to come?"
"Oh, well this is definitely one for the books. You butt dialed me. I heard you being attacked an rushed over, calling Lassiter and everyone else." he explained.
"Wow. Well I'm glad you're the one I called I can't imagine what would've happened if I had accidentally dialed Gina again." I joked, though most of me is serious. Some days luck was just more or less on my side.
Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: I went through an old filer that I had stored a lot of my old fanfiction, most of which I don't remember writing. Anyway, here's a little mushy angsty one shot that according to the date on the paper I'm typing from, I wrote on July 8, 2012.
Chapter End Notes:
A/N: I'll actually be posting a lot of these old Psych stories while trying to keep up with my current ones. It's just easier to type up a two year old story than to create a new one while typing.