Shawn kicked back another shot. Let the alcohol burn as he swallowed. His second shot of the night, but not necessarily his last. He stared at the glass in his hand, never keen on getting drunk, muting his mind.
But there were some things on his mind he wouldn't mind muting at the moment.
"One more," said Shawn to the bartender, who gave him a slightly pitying look before pouring him another shot.
Before he could drink it, however, a voice spoke over his shoulder.
"Shawn?"
It wasn't accusatory, which was surprising. Without turning, Shawn replied dully, "Dad."
Henry sat down beside him. To the bartender, he said, "Two beers, please." Shawn was still staring at the full shot in his hand, turning it between his fingers.
"Didn't think you liked whiskey," said Henry with a slightly raised brow, but still lacking the judgement and the accusation his voice usually carried.
Shawn still didn't look at him. "I don't." And he drank it, wincing at the taste, reveling in the fact that he could feel the beginnings of the edge being taken off.
"What're you doing here?" muttered Shawn.
"Gus told me you were here."
"Traitor," said Shawn under his breath, cursing his designated driver. "Still doesn't explain why you're here."
A heavy sigh. "I was… I was worried…"
Feelings?
His father had feelings?
Shawn glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, taking in Henry's face fixed into his attempt-at-communication face. The older man let out another sigh and finished, staring into his own glass, "Well I was worried you're here because of me. Well… because of… what happened."
Shawn's gaze refocused on the empty shot glass. He set it down. He'd been fully intent on forgetting all of this with a few more bronze glasses and tilts of his head, but something in Henry's face, in his voice, made Shawn say, "Dad…"
"I'm…" said Henry, cutting him off because if he didn't get this out it would seal itself back up again. "I didn't… back at the house, what you saw your mother and I… well, I could have been more… I wasn't… seeing it from your perspective."
At the mention of his mother, Shawn's fingers tightened around the small glass.
When Shawn didn't say anything, Henry went on, albeit awkwardly, "Look, Shawn. About yesterday... I just wanted to say that you don't have to worry about anything… happening… between your mother and me. Well, anything happening… again. " More awkwardness. "Besides," muttered Henry, "She was called back to some job, somewhere, or something. But I think she just… nevermind." Shawn blinked, turning the glass in his hand. "I know the divorce was hard," Henry went on quietly. "And I didn't know… maybe I didn't want to see how hard it was for you. So if you're here because we ended up screwing you up even more, well…" Awkward was beginning to be far too weak a word to describe his father. "I'm…" Hesitation. Uncertainty. Resolve. "I'm sorry, kid."
When Shawn still kept his silence, Henry let out a sigh rich with genuine disappointment, though for once, the disappointment wasn't aimed at Shawn. Henry pulled out his wallet, dropping some cash on the counter for the untouched drinks. He got up to leave.
As he walked away, Shawn spoke.
"She came for you."
Henry froze, Shawn's words quiet. He didn't move, didn't turn to face him, just kept turning that glass.
Henry backtracked, slowly sitting back on the stool. "What?"
Shawn didn't look at him. He almost seemed to wrestle with whether or not to continue, then said to the counter, "She came for you," he repeated. "Because you got shot." Henry's brows kneaded, until Shawn said, with the slight heat of an angry hurt, "She came for you."
Henry blinked.
Oh, hell.
The momentary relief he felt knowing he didn't destroy what was left of Shawn's sense of family with one night of passion was quickly dashed by the realization of what his son was saying.
"I was shot." said Shawn quietly to the counter, his words filling the empty glass, and striking Henry's heart. "She called me." His fingers tightened on the glass. "A week later."
Henry was speechless.
Never in his life has he seen Shawn upset with his mother.
Never.
Not once.
When.. when it happened, after Shawn's rescue, Henry had called Maddie from the hospital while Shawn was in surgery. He'd gotten her voicemail, and he left her a few throughout the day.
She waited a week to call him?
Maddie had never been exactly punctual to any of Shawn's major life events, work always whisking her away somewhere.
"Maddie, I'm fine, you don't have to—"
"Henry, you were shot! Of course I'm going to come down. I'll be there tomorrow, and make sure you're all right."
And when they thought he wasn't listening—
"Shawn, you need to make sure he's all right. He was shot! He needs to be taken care of by the people who love him."
From the look in Shawn's eyes now, the darkened look Henry has rarely ever seen from him, this wasn't the first time Shawn's felt this way about his mother.
How had Henry never known?
"Shawn…" began Henry, at an utter loss of what to say. If he were being honest with himself, he's had time to realize with a sad sort of certainty that he'd been wrong about a lot of things. One of which, the most wrong he's been about anything, was Shawn. And for as good a detective as Henry always prided himself to be, he missed clue after clue after clue that his own son's happy-go-lucky attitude was almost always a front. What Henry used to think was Shawn's attempt at making a mockery of their family and spiting him, had been Shawn's way of dealing with a family that ultimately failed him.
And thirty some-odd years later, Henry couldn't think of anything to fix it.
"If it's any consolation," said Henry quietly, when he couldn't stand the silence from his son anymore, "I don't think she came here for me." Henry fingered the cold glass of his own untouched beer. "My injury may have been an excuse, but... I think she got what she wanted and left."
It had been a thought in his mind the moment Maddie told him she was suddenly needed for work. It didn't take a detective to figure it out.
But it might take one to figure out why he kept falling for it.
"Sorry," said Shawn softly, flicking his eyes to meet Henry's without moving his head. It was a genuine apology, but not for anything he did. It was an apology standing in place of one they'd never truly get from the person who truly owed one.
"Yeah," said Henry with a heavy sigh. "Me, too, kid."
The two men sat at the bar in silence, staring into amber. Feeling the same hurt, from the same person. Again.
Henry stood up to leave again, wanting to allow Shawn the alone time he came here for. As long as he knew he wasn't truly alone.
"Let me know if Gus doesn't end up picking you up," said Henry quietly. "I'll come back if you need me."
With a moment's more hesitation, he turned to leave.
"Thanks for coming," said Shawn, so quietly Henry barely heard over the noise of the bar. "Today, and…" He didn't say it, but Henry heard it nonetheless.
He smiled, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, his response as silent as his son's unsaid words. But he knew by the ghost of a smile on Shawn's face, they were received just the same.
Shots by cosette141
Author's Chapter Notes:
So as I've been rewatching Psych, I realized something that made me feel like a tag was in order. :)
This is a tag to the episode "Juliet Takes a Luvvah" in Season 7, the one where Maddie comes back into town to stay with Henry to help him out after he'd been shot. It's also the episode where Shawn accidentally walks in on his parents, lol.
There's something I think needed addressing for that episode.
~cosette141
This is a tag to the episode "Juliet Takes a Luvvah" in Season 7, the one where Maddie comes back into town to stay with Henry to help him out after he'd been shot. It's also the episode where Shawn accidentally walks in on his parents, lol.
There's something I think needed addressing for that episode.
~cosette141