Yellow was the first thought that came to mind when Henry stepped into the room. His son was yellow. He stuffed his fisted hands further into his denim pockets and took another step into the room. His son's attention was on the window, the rustling leaves on the tree outside a similar color to his son's face. He didn't acknowledge his father's appearance but Henry knew Shawn knew he was there.

"I hate to say I told you so," Henry spoke.

Shawn's head twisted in his direction and he sighed loudly. "Can we pick up this conversation another time? Next Tuesday maybe, I should be dead by then."

Henry frowned, "That's not funny Shawn."

"No, you never thought it was," Shawn replied with another sigh. "There's a kid down the hall that finds me hilarious."

"He's dying from a failing liver too?"

"Leukemia actually, I call him baldy."

"What does he call you?"

Shawn shrugged, "Whatever he likes. What does it matter?" Shawn shivered slightly and pulled the scratchy hospital covers up and sunk further into the bed, careful not to pull his IV. "What are you doing here Dad?"

"You're my son, you're dying."

"I wasn't your son when I stole money from you to buy drugs and alcohol. If you're here just because I'm dying, then I'd rather you weren't here at all."

"Why else would I come here Shawn?" Henry sighed. "Forget it, forget I even came." He turned and walked to the door. He stopped in the doorway, ran a hand over his balding scalp and turned around. "I…" He began, "I don't want you to die thinking I didn't love you."

Shawn made no recognition of the declaration, "You mean you wanted a clear conscience before I die?"

Henry stalked to Shawn's bed and slammed his hands down on the metal railings. "Why do you always make this so hard Shawn?

Henry grabbed Shawn's wrist and pushed up the sleeve. The track marks from multiple injections didn't surprise him. Shawn ripped his arm away from his father's grasp. "Get the hell away from me," he snarled.

Henry had found him in an alley behind a known crack den, it was saddening to think this was the first place he had looked for his son, knowing he'd been found here more than once. "You're coming with me."

"Like hell I am," Shawn stumbled back.

"I'm putting you into rehab."

"I'll escape, won't be the first time."

"You can't keep doing this to yourself Shawn."

"Watch me!" Shawn shouted.

"I am not going to watch you slowly kill yourself!" Henry shouted back

"Then leave! Leave me alone and never come back!"

Henry held up his hands in surrender, "Fine, you got your wish Shawn. I'm washing my hands of you for good."

"Just because you are dying, doesn't mean you turn that all around on me! You were the one who couldn't stop taking drugs. You were the one that destroyed every relationship, every friendship because you were too damn interested in where the next fix was going to come from! I tried to help you! I tried everything but you turned your back on it all and this is where you've ended up! I'm trying to make things right but even now, when you're dying you still can't admit that this was all your fault! What am I supposed to do Shawn? What am I supposed to do?"

Shawn closed his eyes at the tirade. He pulled the covers over his shoulder and turned onto his side. "Just go," he breathed.

"Shawn."

"I'm tired, can you please just leave?"

Henry sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, turned and quickly exited the room.

"Hi," Burton Guster placed the silver case on the floor and pulled out his ID. "Burton Guster with Central Coast Pharmaceuticals. I have an appointment with Dr Wheeler."

The nurse smiled, "He's running a little late, surgery over ran. He asked if you minded waiting."

Gus shook his head, "No problem, no problem at all."

"Good, there's a waiting room at the end of the hall, or the cafeteria on the second floor. We can call you when Dr Wheeler has finished surgery."

Gus smiled, "A cup of coffee sounds good."

"Second floor, end of the corridor."

"Thanks," Gus turned and put his ID back in his coat pocket. He was picking up his case when he over heard the nurses talking.

"You have Shawn Spencer's blood work? Dr Sari needs to look over it."

The other nurse sighed, "Why can't that doctor just leave the poor man alone?"

Gus turned back around to face the nurses. "Shawn Spencer?" He asked.

The nurses glanced at each other before turning back to him, "You know him?"

"Hey Shawn!" Gus called, waving his friend over.

Shawn ginned madly and jogged over to his friend. The pair threw themselves at each other and embraced. "We did it Gus!"

Gus laughed "Never thought I'd ever see you graduate."

"Thanks for the faith in me dude," Shawn replied with a slap to Gus's back.

"After Mr. Wright's car was found in the swimming pool, I thought they'd expel you for sure."

"Hey! No-one can prove that was me!" Gus laughed. "Hey Gus?" Shawn began as they headed back towards school where the crowds had gathered, swarms of people in navy academic regalia surrounded by proud parents.

"Yeah Shawn?"

"You and me, we'll still be friends. Won't we? I mean, you're going off to college and I'm off on my road trip. Tell me, that in ten, twenty years we'll still be friends."

Gus grinned, "Just you try and get rid of me."

Gus frowned. "I knew him once," he answered, "Which room is he in?"

"310," the nurse answered. "Down the hall."

"Thanks," Gus picked up his case and headed down the corridor, taking note of the door numbers until he found room 310. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He received no answer to he grasped the handle and opened the door. His first site was of a body facing away from him, whilst a young boy sat in a wheelchair by the bed, grinning up at the figure in the bed.

"An ice cream man was found lying on the floor of his van covered in hundreds and thousands. Police say he topped himself," the young boy giggled loudly. "The man who invented the hokey pokey had died, his funeral was a strange affair, first they put his left leg in…" The boy laughed even harder. Gus cleared his throat and the figure in the bed turned towards him. He frowned. "Do I know you?" He asked.

"Shawn?" Gus spoke. He couldn't believe the sight in front of him. The young teenager he once knew had been replaced by a young man that looked older than he was. His skin was a pale yellow and large bags under his eyes expressed how ill his old friend was.

Slowly Shawn's eyes widened, "G…Gus?" Gus nodded. Shawn turned back to the young boy. "Hey Baldy, how about we catch up later?" The boy nodded. He grasped the wheels on his chair and maneuvered around the bed.

"Bye Peter," the boy said before disappearing out the door.

"Why'd he call you Peter?" Gus couldn't help ask.

Shawn shook his head, "Long story." Gus put his case down by the door and stepped up to the bed. "So," Shawn began, "What are you doing here? How'd you find out?"

Gus shrugged, "I'm working."

"Doctor?"

"Drug salesmen, overhead a couple of nurses talking about you."

"They all have crushes on me, it's sad really."

"So you're sick?"

"Yup," Shawn answered sinking back down onto the bed; he fiddled with the tubing coming out of his hand.

"How..how bad?"

Shawn looked up into Gus' eyes, "I'm dying Gus."

"Your liver?"

"How'd you know?"

"You're jaundiced Shawn."

Shawn stared down at his yellow hands. "Right. Acute live failure from Cirrhosis," he explained.

Gus scanned the room. He spotted a chair sitting in the far corner and he went to retrieve it. "How long?" He asked as he sat down in the chair.

"A week, maybe two." Gus raised his eyebrows. "I look pretty good for a guy about to die, don't I?"

"You don't seem scared," Gus noted.

"Scared to die?" He asked and Gus nodded. "The doctors told me there was nothing more they could do for me four months ago. I've had some time to accept the inevitable," Shawn answered.

Gus swallowed hard. He stared out the window, his eyes squinting from the bright yellow sun high in the sky. "How long?"

"I told you already."

"No. How long has it been, since we last saw each other?"

Shawn smiled, "The morning after Paulie River's party, you were off to college that afternoon and I bought you pineapple for the journey."

"I see your memory is still as sharp as ever."

"Hardly," Shawn replied with a snort, "The cocaine and Jack Daniel's saw to that."

"How did this happen Shawn? I don't understand, when I left you were happy, you were planning your road trip."

"And on that road trip I met some guys, they made me feel like part of the gang, and we had fun and it was like they understood me. Didn't work out they were the wrong guys to hang out with until I was an addict, by then it was too late."

"That's the how, what about the why, why did you take the drugs in the first place?"

Shawn shrugged, "Don't really remember now, it was ten years ago. I think I was looking for answers, but I must have been asking the wrong questions."

Gus shook his head, "I don't understand."

"Me and my dad had a huge fight after you left, I told him about my road trip. Let's just say he was less than pleased with my choices. I guess I just wanted to make my own choices, control my own life you know? Proved him right, didn't I?"

Gus's eyes fell to his lap, "I'm sorry."

"What have you got to be sorry for? I'm the one that turned into an addict. I'm the one who's been drinking solidly for the past ten years."

"If I'd been there then maybe you wouldn't have…."

A hand shot out and grasped Gus's shoulder weakly, "Don't ever think like that okay? I'm the only one to blame."

Gus's head snapped around when he heard a knock on the door post. It was the same nurse as earlier, "Dr Wheeler is ready for you."

"Thank you," Gus answered. He turned back round to look at Shawn guiltily.

"Go," Shawn told him.

"I can reschedule, stay a little longer."

"It's okay Gus, really, I'm not dying today."

Gus sighed, "Okay." He rose from his seat.

"Wait," Shawn called before Gus could walk away. He reached over to his bedside table and pulled out an envelope from inside a book. "Here," he handed the envelope over.

Gus frowned, "What's this?"

"Read it later," Shawn said, "promise me you'll do whatever it says." Gus looked down at the letter in his hands and then back up at Shawn in confusion "Just…..please...promise me," Shawn pleaded.

Finally Gus nodded, "Okay." Shawn nodded back. Gus slid the letter into his jacket pocket, turned, picked up his silver drugs case and left the room.

Shawn's eyes snapped open and his eyes focused on a familiar face. The dark haired man stood at the end of his bed, hands on his hips.

"What do you think you are doing, Spencer?" The man asked.

"Err..sleeping?"

"I'm not talking about that and you know it."

"Okay," Shawn pulled himself up into a sitting position, "Why don't you tell me what I've done wrong this time."

"Stop calling the station," Lassiter ordered. "Your dad's trying to do a job and is finding it hard when his ungrateful son keeps calling every hour."

"You never did like me."

"You never gave me a reason to Spencer."

"Where's my dad?" The shivering man asked, he squirmed in the seat, pulling and tugging at the handcuffs holding his hands together.

"He doesn't want to see you."

"Screw you!"

"I'm not the one handcuffed in this room. I'm not the one going through withdrawal."

Shawn gritted his teeth, "I'm not."

"Not what? Going through withdrawal? You can't sit still, your eyes are bloodshot, and you're sweating like a pig. You're desperate for another fix."

"Shut up."

"What would you do for it Spencer?"

Shawn glared, "Uncuff me and I'll show you."

Lassiter laughed, "You don't really think I'll fall for that do you?"

"Let me go," He growled.

"You were found with five hundred dollars worth of stolen property, you're not going anywhere."

"I stole it from my dad," Shawn said, not even denying the crime.

"I know."

"Get him to drop the charges."

"I'm sorry," Lassiter stood. "That won't be happening. He told me prison might knock some sense into you. This is your third strike right?"

"I was a different person then," Shawn said, "I barely remember what I said back then, it's all fuzzy."

"Nice excuse."

"It's all I have these days, excuses…look, I just want to talk to my dad."

"Well he doesn't want to talk to you," Lassiter noticed a flicker of hurt in Shawn's eyes before it disappeared, "How long you have left?"

"Why? Planning a good riddance party?" Shawn retorted.

"You think I should?"

"Only if there's booze, a party isn't a party without booze," Shawn joked.

"Why do you care? You'll be dead."

"Trust me, I need no reminder of that fact," he replied, seemingly un-offended by the comment. Lassiter sighed, his eyes fell on a vase of yellow daffodils on Shawn's bedside. "Look, I'm not looking to fight with him. I just…I need to talk to him before I," Shawn swallowed hard, "Before I die."

"Look, I get that this is hard for you, but just think how hard it's going to be for him when you're gone, you're all he has."

"Which is why I need to make things right with him now."

"He tried to make things right with you and you threw it back in his face!"

"I'm sorry!" Shawn shouted, "I'm sorry okay!" He slumped down into the bed, exhausted. He took in some deep breaths.

"Spencer."

"Please, please don't make me beg," he whispered.

A moment later Lassiter nodded, "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Lassiter strolled to the door. "For what it's worth?" Lassiter added, turning back towards Shawn. "I'm sorry it had to end this way….Henry never gave up on you, even when he said otherwise."

"Goodbye Detective Lassiter." Lassiter turned and left the room.

Shawn was staring out the window when Henry entered the room. The leaves on the tree had turned a dull brown and it was raining, unusual for the normally sunny Santa Barbara.

"You came," Shawn spoke, his voice weaker than before and when Henry looked down at his son he noticed how much weaker he looked than last time, his body was lying on the bed as if he had no energy to lift his pinky finger let alone his head. He also noticed the increase in machines connected to his body with wires.

"Didn't….think you would."

It had been nearly a week since his partner had come back from the hospital and suggested he go visit his son. It had taken him that long to decide whether or not to go. "Yeah well," Henry stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked round the bed. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. I was just…"

"Angry," Shawn sighed. "I know……I saw Gus…. the other day," Shawn started.

"Gus? Burton Guster?" Shawn nodded slightly. "What's he doing with himself these days?"

"Drugs rep."

Henry chuckled, "That's funny, he sells drugs, you buy 'em."

Shawn rolled his eyes, "Hilarious Dad."

Henry took in a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I didn't come here to make jokes at your expense."

"No…no you didn't."

Henry perched on the edge of the bed, "I'm sorry Shawn… I'm sorry for all the times I shouted at you, turned my back on you or made you think I didn't love you. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you from this."

"My fault…I know that," Henry raised his eyes at the admission. "Hey, first step…is admitting you…have a problem…..right?" Water formed in his eyes.

"Shawn," Henry murmured, cupping his son's cheek and wiping away the moisture with his thumb. Shawn closed his eyes at the touch.

"I don't want to go," Shawn whispered.

"I don't want you to go either," Henry replied. "No matter what you did to yourself, no matter what you destroyed in your life, I have always loved you son."

Shawn's eyes scrunched up. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he cried.

"Shhh," Henry lifted his legs up onto the bad and sat back against the headboard. He pulled his son to him and hugged him tightly to his body. He brushed his hand through Shawn's hair soothingly as Shawn buried his head into Henry's chest and sobbed. "It's okay….it's going to be okay."

"I'm scared," Shawn whispered.

"I know, shhhh, it'll be okay, just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"Don't….leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Henry held his son until he heard the even breathing of sleep. It wasn't long before he was asleep too.

When he woke up the body in his arms was cold and still. He didn't need to feel for a pulse he knew wasn't there. He closed his eyes tightly and let a single tear roll down his cheek. He kissed the top of Shawn's head. "I love you son," he whispered into Shawn's hair.

Gus had forgotten about the letter he'd stuffed in his jacket pocket until a phone call from Shawn's father had informed him of Shawn's death. He dug into the closet and pulled out the jacket he'd been wearing that way before dipping his hand into the pocket to pull out the single white envelope.

"Why me Shawn?" Gus asked out loud. "We don't talk in ten years and yet you chose to give this to me?" Gus had never understood Shawn when they were teenagers, he doubted the answers would arrive now. He ripped it open and pulled out the letter.

I have nothing to give anyone. Any money I might of had bought the drugs that killed me. Any possessions I had I sold. I don't have enough time to visit everyone I hurt and make things right, I hurt too many people over too many years. But the following might help further people from being hurt. Below is a list of every drug dealer in Santa Barbara and every crack house, drug den or alleyway where they hide. It's only a small drop in the ocean I know but I hope it helps.

Now, what to do with my body. Don't you dare bury me. I want to be cremated but please don't scatter my ashes out at sea that's so cliché. Scatter my ashes somewhere with a nice view over the sea, I always liked the sea. No depressing funeral either, not that anyone would show to it, If they do, I don't want any cheesy music, no Celine Dion or Elton john and no one is allowed to wear black. If anyone starts to cry I'll haunt their ass.

Please look after my father. I know he's always been the strong one out of the two of us but I'm scared. Not of dying, but of leaving him alone.

Shawn Spencer.

P.S. Please make sure Baldy gets my old hospital room, it has a better view and he deserves it, more than I ever did.

Gus refolded the letter and sighed loudly. He pulled out his phone and began making arrangements for a man he barely knew.

It was a couple of days later when he returned to the hospital, he knocked on the door post before entering the hospital room. The young boy in the bed turned his head away from the window and looked at him.

"I know you," he said with a frown, "You came to see Peter."

Gus nodded, "I did. You do know his name was Shawn, don't you?" The boy nodded "What yours? He just called you baldy."

The boy grinned, "Sam."

"Hi Sam. I'm Gus."

"Peter told me all about you after you left. How you two were inseparable at school, the time you built a tree house together except it wasn't very good and you both fell out of the tree."

"He broke his leg," Gus smiled at the memory. Henry and Gus's parents had been terrified but Shawn and Gus had found the whole thing funny.

"You broke your arm."

"I see you got his room."

"I love the view. Peter would stare out of the window for hours. Don't know what he was looking at?"

"Everything," Gus answered quickly, "He saw everything." Sam nodded.

"Why do you call him Peter?" Gus had to ask, the question had been stewing at the back of his mind for over a week.

"Peter Pan," Sam said, "I called him Peter Pan."

"Why?"

Sam lifted his head and smiled at Gus before answering, "Because to die would be an awfully big adventure."