It wasn’t until Lassie pulled him off the hood of the car by the belt loops of his jeans and his feet hit the solid ground that Shawn finally let himself breathe in a deep breath of relief. It seemed that all the adrenaline that had been raging through his body keeping him going just disappeared in one single instant, but the pain he had been feeling for hours appeared to increase exponentially.  Oblivious to what was going on around him; he just stumbled blindly in a circle. His vision splitting into bursts of colors and shapes that reminded him of the kaleidoscope that Uncle Jack had given him when he was eight years old ‘Cool’ he thought, that was of course until he started to lose his footing. In an instant, strong arms were holding him upright, guiding him over to the hood of the previously new car. “Dad” he whispered hoarsely. His father was saying words to him but everything that he could hear was jumbled up and distorted, he let a few moments pass allowing for things to come back into focus.

Now that he felt as though the world had righted itself he dared look up from his perch on the side of the car just in time to see his dad helping Lassie subdue the bad guy. Did he just hear Lassie compliment his shooting, and call him a “Detective” in the same sentence? ‘Dude!’ Despite how he felt, a few small quips still managed to pass through his lips, but he was sooooo totally going to milk this later for all it was worth.

Shawn let his attention wander back to the pulsing beat of the wound in his shoulder, God he hurt, this was worse than the time he crashed his Norton when he was eighteen. The eerie feeling of his own blood running steadily down his abdomen and back was almost sickeningly disturbing. He had definitely broke open the wound again; of course jumping from one speeding vehicle onto the hood of another speeding vehicle was bound to do that. He could almost feel the color draining from his face as he fought down the nausea that was beginning to rise up in his esophagus. ‘Don’t throw up! Don’t throw up!’ became his internal mantra.

Lifting his heavy lids he chanced a glance at his father who was busy looming over the newly apprehended man in an intimidating manner while proceeding to speak or one might say yell into the his ear. Recognizing the facial expression on Henry’s face immediately as pure unadulterated rage he almost felt a pang of sympathy for the other man…almost. His mouth opened to make a comment on any death threats that were being made, but strangely no sound seemed to come out, or was that just because his ears were ringing? When his dad and Lassie looked up at him simultaneously both wearing strange looks on their faces, he was pretty sure he had said something, the question was, what?

Was it just him or was it getting really hot. He tilted his head up to look at the sun in an almost quizzical manner, small rivulets of sweat quickly running down the deepening creases in his forehead. The ground shifted beneath him or at least that’s what it felt like, and his vision dulled almost darkening completely for a short instant. Fate hated him; it had to, because Shawn was cruelly aware of the ground suddenly coming up to meet him and the shouts of both his father and the head detective following him on his descent. ‘This is gonna suck’ he thought, and he was right it did totally suck. It wasn’t like the movies, no one magically got there just in the nick of time to catch him. He felt the jarring pain as he landed forcefully on his wounded shoulder and heard the sickening crack of his skull against the compacted dirt. ‘Dude did someone just scream like a girl?…Oh God that was me!’

He felt hot tears pricking at his eyes threatening to fall; rough hands were rolling him over gripping onto the sides of his ashen face. “Shawn, Shawn, look at me son” His bleary hazel eyes squinted up to meet his father’s concerned gaze.

“Just thought I’d lay down for a bit.” he responded, barely believing the voice he heard utter those words was his own. Henry could hear it to, the pain lacing every syllable ebbing away any humor that was meant by the statement. “Sure kid, sure.”

Then Lassiter’s face moved into his line of sight and the sudden unwelcome sensation of fingers pulling at the tattered remains of his shirt, probing at the irritated skin caused his eyes to widen with panic. It didn’t take a Psychic to know what the Detective was about to do. “Don’t!” he hissed shifting wildly away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Spencer, you’ve busted open the wound and you’re bleeding out all over the place, just sit still and let me do my job by keeping you alive long enough for the bus to arrive.” The older man pressed his rumpled coat to the hot skin before any defiant objection could be made. A pain filled cry followed by a shuttering gasp of air made Lassiter visibly cringe. Shawn arched his back and twisted from within his father’s steady grasp, both of his legs shuffling futilely in a desire for escape. Several seconds past before another pain filled hiss passed through the younger mans clenched teeth as he turned his head into the solid form of his father. He buried himself as deep as he could, letting the familiar smell of his dad’s after shave sooth him, bringing back memories from a time when he didn’t hurt so much, maybe even when he was happy.

Lassiter could see the pain in the elder Spencer’s eyes at seeing his only son lying injured, clinging to him in a way that spoke oceans of his son’s despair. It was a look of sheer helplessness that seemed to grow in intensity with every shuddering breath the kid took. “It’s alright kid, it’s gonna be alright” the patriarch whispered gruffly, running his aged hand gently through the sweat soaked strands of his son’s hair. “Just…hang in there a bit longer.” Henry winced noticeably when his fingers skimmed the swollen knot that rested on the back of his son’s skull. God he wanted to kill the bastard that sat handcuffed in the car next to them for his part in doing this to his boy.

Lassiter was the first to notice the younger man’s face slowly roll out of its hiding place as his body visible relaxed and ceased it’s sporadic movements, the sounds of protest were gone leaving behind nothing but complete and utter silence. Hesitantly, he lifted two of the blood slicked fingers of his right hand and brought them up to press firmly against the Psychics’ neck. The action brought Henry back from wherever his mind had escaped to, and the detective swore he saw a momentary flash of fear pass over his haggard face. “He’s just unconscious” Carlton explained, earning a brief nod that said the older man had come to the same conclusion.  

“Shawn! Shawn!” Came shouts from behind them. Both men looked up to see Gus and Juliet exiting the wounded Echo. Gus was moving with a speed that Carlton didn’t know the young pharmaceutical Rep. possessed ‘Maybe the whole family was juicing.’ It was demented, but the thought made Lassiter smirk briefly all the same.

Gus came skidding to a stop next to them “Oh my God, is he…” “Unconscious” Mr. Spencer interrupted. “Is he gonna be ok?” he asked, slowly lowering himself next to Shawn obviously rattled by the sight of all the blood, but unwilling to let his phobia keep him from his best friends side. “He’ll be fine Gus” Henry sighed, “He’ll be…he’ll be fine.”

The comment was directed toward Shawn’s loyal sidekick, but to Lassiter’s trained ears it sounded more like Henry was trying to convince himself that his son would indeed be alright.

Juliet came and put an encouraging hand on her partners shoulder, staying back just enough to ensure Shawn had plenty of room to breathe. He could see the longing flickering wildly in her eyes and his already prominent frown deepened. ‘Why of all people did she have to like Spencer’ It’s not like he hadn’t noticed, he was the head detective for a reason you know, though he had to admit denial would be a nice place to be. Quietly he shifted his weight and discreetly slid over a few inches cursing is gushy sympathetic side. His partner noticing the new gap quickly took advantage and moved in to fill the void. Her shaky hand came to rest on Shawn’s pallid face and she jerked back just ever so slightly at the feel of the heat emanating from the man in front of her.

“He’s burning up!” It was a statement to the obvious, and she knew it, but she let it slip out all the same. Henry nodded “The bullet wound is infected, it’s been hours since the shooting and those animals never treated his injury, can you believe they duck taped a shammy onto the front of his shirt? I’d honestly be surprised if my son didn’t have a fever!” he huffed angrily, looking up into the woman’s worried face, was that love he saw mixed in with all the other emotions reflected in her eyes? He’d have to file that little gem of information into the back of his mind for later.

Guster shifted suddenly to peer off into the distance a brief look of relief flitting across his face “I can hear the sirens, the ambulance is almost here.”

Henry sucked in a deep breath and placed a hand on his son’s cheek stroking it lightly. He didn’t care if the small gesture of affection was being witnessed by several sets of on looking eyes; he had almost lost his son today. Shawn groaned and slid his hand upward slowly before weakly clasping the hand that rested on his face. Two fever lit eyes opened and scanned the encroaching faces for his father “Dude…” he whispered “…totally ruining my rep with the PDA.” Shawn let a small smirk turn up the corners of his mouth ever so slightly before it faded as quickly as it had come, his eyes squinting closed in an effort to block out the blinding sun above them.

For the sake of the game Henry played along and responded with a “Yeah, well deal with it kid.” noticing fully well that his son had yet to let his hand go, not to mention the young man’s grip had tightened. He smiled briefly in return though the expression went unseen, and proceeded to give his son’s hand a light but reassuring squeeze back.

The attention of the group was torn away from the injured man in front of them, to the ambulance and other patrol cars that came screeching to a halt as they swarmed onto the scene. In seconds everything erupted in chaos. Paramedics were breaking the huddle, pushing everyone back. Gus stood and watched quietly horrified from the sidelines as Lassiter removed his bloody hands from Shawn’s shoulder, and the paramedic that took his place began to prod the open wound causing a cry of pain to erupt from his best friend’s mouth.

Henry was fighting to stay at his son’s side, not letting go of the hand that now latched onto his like a lifeline. “He’s my son” he would protest each time they tried to pry them apart. Shawn looked at his father with a look of fear and pain and Henry felt his heart constrict, the kid looked every bit of only 10 years old at that moment.

One last tug and their contact was broken, a young man with a medical kit pushed the older man out of the way blocking his view. He heard his son as he called out to him sounding strangled as he did so. Within seconds a bloodied hand emerged from the huddle of bodies blindly searching for its lost connection. Stepping forward the patriarch grasped the fingers tightly daring the surrounding people to make him let go again. Almost instantaneously his son settled down, visibly relaxing, and the paramedics who were just moments ago struggling to calm the young man breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Henry followed alongside the train of people that began rushing towards the ambulance, speaking with terms he couldn't comprehend. He briefly acknowledged Gus’s comment’s that he and Juliet would be right behind them.

In seconds they were loaded, his hand never letting go of his sons during the transport. Henry glanced out the back of the vehicle just as he settled in his own seat noticing for the first time the sea of cops that had arrived on scene, all of whom seemed to be staring back at him.

There was a sea of emotions rolling across their faces all at once, worry, fear, concern, anger the later being directed at the men who had done this to their colleague and friend. He’d seen the same looks before when a fellow cop had been downed during a robbery gone bad back when he was still on the force. It wasn’t really until that moment that he realized Shawn wasn’t just the head ‘Psychic’ consultant for the SBPD, these people respected him, he was a cop, and they were mad as hell that one of their own had just been wounded. He sat starring, slightly awed till the scene was cut off by the loud slamming of the ambulance doors.

He felt the vehicle lurch foreword, the sirens wail echoing throughout the cramped compartment. It was almost over, they were on their way. He breathed in his first real breath since that phone call that had flipped his whole world upside down. He could still hear Gus’s panicked voice as he informed him that his only son had been shot and was officially missing leaving only a small blood trail and txt message in gibberish behind. He looked at Shawn’s unconscious face that was now covered by an oxygen mask and something deep inside him just snapped. Henry Spencer finally felt an overflow of emotions about to erupt, feelings he had been holding back for the last 18 long hours. Unnoticed, sitting in the back corner of the small enclosure he quietly began to weep, still clutching to the limp hand of his little boy.