This is for the Psych Whumpathon.
I used concussion, broken bone, ladder and Henry's house. I hope I didn't leave anything out.
Thanks to GB and SydneyWoo for the excellent beta job. You ladies rock.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Psych.
Hard Work Never Killed Anyone... But Why Take the Chance
"Gus, don't be a fuzzy chinchilla. I forgot his birthday...again! You have to help me or I'll never hear the end of it," Shawn said into the phone as he walked into his father's empty house. "Dude, if you help me we can have the trim knocked out today."
"No, Shawn, I cannot come help you paint your father's house. If you'd given me a little notice, I might have been able to, but I have plans this weekend and they don't include manual labor," Gus answered.
"Gus... I don't ask you for much ...Gus? Gus?" Realizing his friend had hung up on him Shawn hit end on his phone and dropped it on the kitchen table. "Fine, see if I help you out with your route again." He said to the empty room.
Sighing, Shawn went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water before heading to the garage for the paint and equipment he knew his father had bought recently to repaint his house. If Henry hadn't gone fishing this weekend Shawn figured he would be painting the house anyway. When he realized he'd forgotten his father's birthday, he decided to kill two birds with one stone. His father would come home to a newly painted house as a birthday gift and Shawn would earn points toward the next time he needed to consult with his dad about a case. It was win win.
The beautiful spring day was a little chilly for the beach, but comfortable enough for working outside. He had completed the front trim, one side and the back of the house and was working on the last side. It was going much faster than he planned. He hoped to finish the trim and start working on the main portion of the house before his father came home on Tuesday.
As the sun dropped, so did the temperature. Shawn looked up to see ominous rain clouds and hoped they held off long enough for the paint to dry. He needed to hurry if he wanted to finish.
There was only a few more feet left. If he reached, he could make it without having to get down to move the extension ladder. One minute Shawn was leaning away from the ladder, the next, he was falling. He felt his stomach drop; he heard a horrible crack; all the air left his lungs and he was sure his brain was doing summersaults in his head. The last thing Shawn saw before darkness overtook him was the ladder falling toward the ground.
Shawn woke to pain. The pounding in his head kept time with his heart beat, which to Shawn seemed entirely too fast. He slowly opened his eyes to the cloudy nighttime sky. When did it get dark? The next thing he noticed was a ladder laying across his chest. It wasn't heavy but it did make breathing difficult. Trying to move as little as possible Shawn struggled to push the ladder off of his body, finally working it down toward his legs. When he tried to kick it the rest of the way, pain exploded through his left thigh. Dark spots blurred his vision and he cried out as he tried to curl in on himself. The pulse in his head pick up speed before Shawn let go and lost consciousness again.
********
Several miles off the coast Henry looked up at threatening clouds in the darkness. He knew he should head in, but he hated that his weekend fishing trip was being called because of weather. The ocean swells were already starting to get bigger and soon his little boat would be tossed around as though it were nothing. It wasn't safe to be on the water during a storm, and though it hadn't started to rain yet the wind had picked up.
He sighed, yep, time to pack it in. Maybe next weekend he'd head back out. Hell, he was retired. He could come out later in the week if he wanted. Yeah, he'd let this weather pass then continue his fishing trip. So what if it was a hassle getting the boat out? It's not like he had to be at work. Henry smiled, maybe he could even guilt Shawn into going with him. His son had forgotten his birthday after all. Sure, Shawn would claim he'd had a big surprise planned, but Henry knew better. He'd forgotten and that was always good for some father son bonding, even if it was under duress.
********
The next time Shawn woke freezing drops of water were splattering his face and arms. "It could be worse," Shawn said quietly and to his horror, weakly. When did that happen? More and more drops fell and before Shawn realized it, he was drenched. "Really?" He called out hoarsely to no one.
A light caught his eye. The kitchen light of his father's neighbor, Mr. Miller. He was in his kitchen, maybe thirty feet from where Shawn lay. He should call out, Shawn thought. He had to. No one was coming for him. Gus had plans and his father would be gone for at least two, possibly three more days.
"M..Mr. M...Miller," he tried. He was so tired and his head hurt and his leg throbbed painfully. Shawn just wanted to go to sleep. Sleep kept the pain at bay at least for a little while. He couldn't sleep. Sleep was bad. "Mr. Miller," he tried again. Louder the second time. "Help me, Mr. Miller!"
The kitchen light went out and Shawn felt like crying. Hell, if he were honest with himself he did cry. Miller couldn't hear him. The man had been almost deaf when Shawn had lived here, no telling how bad his hearing had become in the years since he'd left home. Add the rain pounding on the roof... Well, he'd had to try, Shawn told himself.
He knew from experience that Gus had probably turned off his phone, but he had other people he could call. Lassie or Jules would come help him. Jules, definitely Jules. They weren't working on a case right now, so Lassie might not answer. Jules was a safe bet. Shawn reached slowly for the pocket he always kept his phone in, whimpering when he only found a few pennies, a receipt he didn't feel like examining and an army man. Where had that come from?
He went to reach for his other pocket when he remembered he'd left his phone on the kitchen table. "No," he squeaked pathetically. Why had he done that? He always carried his phone with him. He should have planned for this. He should have kept his phone with him for an event such as this. Damn it, Shawn! He berated himself, hearing his father's voice. But he wasn't really psychic, he only played one on t.v. He chuckled.
Then he shivered.
His situation hit him like a ton of pineapple. Then the nausea hit him at the thought of pineapple. His dear friend was betraying him. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath because Shawn couldn't bear the thought of vomiting at that moment. He laid completely still, willing it to pass. If he threw up he thought he might die. His head already felt too big and too poundy. He couldn't add to it, and he knew from earlier that moving his leg was a monumentally bad idea. There was no way he would survive the physical aspect of retching.
He shivered again and lost his battle. He turned his head to the side hoping he didn't choke, hoping his head didn't explode, hoping he didn't lay in his father's side yard and die.
********
When Henry pulled into his drive, the first thing he noticed was Shawn's motorcycle blocking the garage. Next, that his son had left the garage door up and now the concrete floor was nearly flooded. Because Henry was an organized man, the only thing that would be ruined were the boxes of crap his son kept piling up. Maybe that would teach Shawn to close the damn door!
He pulled the door shut and walked into his house. The kitchen light was on and Shawn's phone was on the table. "Shawn?" He called out, but there was no answer. The house was dark as Henry walked through looking for his son. "Shawn?" He called again with no answer.
Heading back to the kitchen, Henry picked up Shawn's phone. He nosed through the contact list. It wasn't in alphabetical order which didn't surprise him. Shawn was anything but ordered. First Gus, which was expected. Then Jules, next Mom. Well, at least I beat out Lassiter, Henry thought noticing a listing for ICE.
"Who is Ice?" He asked himself quietly punching the button to show the numbers. Hmmm, his and Gus' numbers were under ICE. Suddenly Henry realized, In Case of Emergency. Huh? That made sense. Feeling silly for looking, he hit Gus' number.
It went immediately to voicemail. "I don't know what you two are up to, but tell that son of mine I'm holding his bike and his phone hostage until you bring back whatever it is you took from my garage."
Henry hit end and headed up stairs for a shower.
********
Shawn wasn't sure what woke him. He thought it might have been a door slamming, but it could have been the rain that continued to fall or the uncontrollable shivers that racked his body. He had to get out of the rain. The porch was just around the corner. If he could crawl, or pull himself to the porch he would at least be out of the weather. It was freezing. Even though spring had arrived it was still cold at night. Some nights it got down to the low forties.
He turned on to his side. White hot pain made him dizzy, bringing the nausea back full force. He swallowed and thought it was odd to be freezing and feel sweat popping out all over his body at the same time. Shawn took a deep breath to prepare himself. He grabbed a fist full of grass in each hand. Then using his good leg, he dug the toe of his shoe into his father's pristine lawn. Another breath and he propelled himself forward. The grass came out in clumps in his hands and he could tell he was leaving divots from his shoe. Push and pull. Push and pull. He couldn't think about the fire in his leg, or the spots in front of his eyes, or the fact that the earth was spinning way too fast; as long as he had a good hold on the grass he wouldn't fall off.
He wasn't sure how long he crawled, but it felt like hours. Stopping at the corner of the house, he'd only traveled a few feet but it felt like he'd run a marathon. Shawn put his head down to rest, he could smell dirt and grass and the paint that had spilled and even a coppery scent he knew was blood. Once you got a whiff of blood you never forgot the smell.
Shawn lay still breathing hard. He wanted to sleep. Sleep per chance to dream. Was that Shakespeare? Or Shakes the Clown? He chuckled. Did I really just go there?
"It stopped raining," he said quietly. "That's good." But, it was still cold and he still needed to get to the porch. He looked up to judge the distance and saw... his father's truck.
Shawn wept and laughed and coughed and shivered. "Dad," he called knowing his father would come looking for him now. He didn't have to torture himself anymore by crawling to the porch. His dad was going to walk outside any second and see him laying on the ground; muddy and covered in paint and bleeding. Shawn had a feeling there was a bone sticking out of his leg. Surely his dad saw his bike parked in front of the garage. How could he miss it? Shawn closed his eyes and put his head down on his out stretched arm. He was saved.
********
After his shower, Henry went back downstairs to fix a snack. He ate, then made quick work of cleaning the kitchen. Walking through the house, he checked the doors, making sure they were locked, then headed back up stairs to bed.
Henry crawled tiredly under the covers. He watched the late news, wanting to see the weather report for the rest of the week. The weatherman claimed it would be nice out, but since when could they be trusted? Henry turned off the television and rolled over in bed. He tossed and turned for a while, something in his gut making sleep difficult. Shouldn't have eaten that leftover chicken. Eventually he dosed off, plagued by dreams of giant ocean swells and pounding rain.
********
Sun streaked through Henry's kitchen window. It was going to be a gorgeous day. While he made his morning coffee, Henry was trying to decide if he wanted to get the boat back out on the water or start painting the house. Maybe he'd paint the house. Then when Shawn came by for his bike and phone, Henry could cajole him into helping.
"Hey your phone's ringing." Henry looked around to see who was talking.
"Hey! Your phone's ringing!" Louder this time and Henry realized it was coming from Shawn's phone.
"Hey! Your phone's ringing!!" Louder still. Henry laughed as he answered his son's phone. Where did Shawn get these things?
"Hello?" Henry answered.
"Mr. Spencer?"
"Hey, Gus. Tell Shawn--"
"Shawn's not with me," Gus interrupted. "I just got your message. I haven't seen Shawn since Friday night."
"Then where is he? His bike is still out front," Henry said peeking out of the window and seeing his son's Norton.
"I don't know. The last time I spoke with him, he was going to get started painting your house for your birthday. Maybe Juliet or someone came by to pick him up?" Gus told him. Henry could hear the doubt in the younger man's voice.
"Yeah, maybe," Henry said. "If you hear from him, tell him to give me a call."
"Sure. You do the same?"
"Yeah," Henry said. Distracted, he hung up.
Forgetting his coffee, Henry went out front to his garage. He pulled the door up and immediately saw his ladder was missing. It didn't mean anything, he tried to tell himself. Shawn was notorious for not putting things back in their place. Henry spun around scanning the yard and he saw him. Shawn lay just passed the corner of the house, caked in mud, his eyes closed. Unnaturally still.
"No, no, NO!" Henry ran to his son, dropping to his knees next to Shawn's body. He was afraid to touch him. Henry could see where Shawn had pulled himself through the grass, trying to get to help. His fingers thick with mud and grass. "Oh God! Please!"
Henry reached for his son. He was so cold and wet. He was pale, too pale and his lips were a strange shade of blue. "Help!" Henry screamed. "Somebody help! Please!"
When no one immediately came, Henry ran. He didn't remember grabbing the phone or the blankets he kept in the hall closet, but he was back to Shawn in seconds. Pulling his son close, he wrapped him in the blankets, trying desperately to warm his son.
Henry was talking into the phone. Pleading for help. Giving his address. Begging them to hurry. Please just hurry. Weak pulse, so cold, so cold. Sirens. Flashing lights. Nosy neighbors. Frantic ride. BP too low. Hospital. A swarm of doctors and nurses. Get the wet clothes off. Get him warm. Have to get him warm. Not dead until he's warm and dead. Not dead.
********
"What happened?"
"I don't know."
"How long was he outside?"
"I don't know."
"Did he hit his head?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
Then Gus was there. "Mr. Spencer?" Gus put his hand on the older man's shoulder.
"I don't remember calling you," Henry said quietly.
"You didn't. I'm on his emergency contact list. Do you remember giving them Shawn's phone?" Gus asked softly.
"No."
"Here, let me take care of this." Gus took a clipboard out of Henry's hand. Where did that come from?
"He was out there, Gus. He was hurt and wet and cold and I ...I went to bed." Henry rubbed his face tiredly. "I slept in my nice, warm bed while my son..."
"You didn't know."
"I should have known, Gus! I saw his bike when I came home. I saw his phone on the kitchen table. I just thought..."
"It's okay, Mr. Spencer. He's going to be fine," Gus tried to reassure his friend's father and himself.
"You don't know that," Henry snapped, hating himself. It wasn't enough he'd left his son out in the elements all night, now he was yelling at Shawn's friend.
"You can't blame yourself for this. I should have been there. He called and asked me to come help him paint, but I had other plans. I turned off my phone so he couldn't interrupt me," Gus took a sad breath. "Even if he'd called I wouldn't have answered. I didn't check my voicemail until this morning. I dropped the ball, Mr. Spencer."
"It's not your job to babysit Shawn." It was Henry's turn to console Gus.
"Babysitting Shawn is only part of my best friend responsibilities. I knew what I was getting myself into ten minutes after I met him twenty-five years ago," Gus said. His eyes grew distant and Henry knew Gus was remembering his and Shawn's first meeting. Two boys, one umbrella and the roof of Henry's house.
Henry sighed and patted Gus' knee, "We can both make ourselves sick worrying about blame or we can make ourselves sick worrying about Shawn."
"I pick Shawn. At least I'm used to worrying about him," Gus smiled sadly.
"Me too."
Sometime later a doctor came to the waiting area. There was talk about Hypothermia, a serious concussion and surgery for a displaced compound fracture of the leg. They were still monitoring Shawn, but his body temperature had stabilized and he was doing well. Initial testing didn't show any signs of brain damage. The surgery would take place in a couple of hours and they had Shawn on strong antibiotics to fight off any infection that had taken hold in the leg. He was going to be okay.
And he was awake.
"Would you like to sit with him until his surgery?" The doctor asked.
"I'll finish his admitting paperwork," Gus offered. "Just let me know how he's doing?"
"Thanks," Henry said. He patted Gus on the shoulder, grateful his son had such a good friend.
********
"Hey, Dad," Shawn said tiredly.
"Hey, kid. You sure did a number on yourself," Henry smiled and brushed the hair off Shawn's forehead. He sat in the chair next to the hospital bed and took Shawn's hand. "I'm so sorry, kid."
"Why?" Shawn asked confused by his father's apology.
"You were outside hurt all night," Henry answered.
"Every thing is jumbled in my head, Dad. I remember painting and I remember being cold and my head hurting, but I don't remember you being with me," He told his father.
Henry's eyes shone with unshed tears. "I wasn't with you. I found you this morning."
"Then how could you have known I was hurt? I don't understand."
How did he explain the guilt he felt at his child laying, injured, just feet away and he'd ignored all the signs? "I thought you were being irresponsible. Leaving the garage door open. Your bike blocking my truck. I thought you left with Gus. I taught you to observe your surroundings and make logical conclusions based on what you saw. And when it came down to it, I failed do that."
"But I am irresponsible," Shawn answered.
Henry swiped quickly at the trail of moisture that had appeared on his cheek and laughed weakly.
"You weren't even supposed to be home," Shawn reminded his father. "Or was I out there longer than I thought?"
Henry chuckled softly, "No, just overnight. Gus said he talked to you yesterday morning."
"See, if you hadn't come home early from your trip I could have been there for days," Shawn said squeezing his father's hand.
Henry didn't want to think about that. If Shawn had been out there any longer Henry would be making funeral arrangements instead of having a conversation with his son. "I guess it's a good thing it started raining." Henry marveled at the irony in that statement. The rain worsened his son's condition. But if it hadn't started raining, Shawn might still be laying out in the yard.
A nurse pushed aside the curtain that was around Shawn's bed, "Sir, we need to prep Shawn for surgery," she said smiling at the two men.
"Okay," Henry said as he stood. "I'll see you in a little while," he told Shawn.
"K. Oh, Dad," Shawn called his father back.
"Yeah?" Henry turned toward Shawn.
"Happy Birthday."
"Thanks, kid. But I'm giving you permission now to forget next year's. Okay?"
Shawn gave a weak grin. "You got it, Dad."