The long awaited sequel to 'Four O'clock is the Worst Time of the Morning'! Warning you know that updates will likely be irregular and sporadic. If you haven't read the prequel 'A Hit to the face and a Broken Heart' I suggest you do so now. Characters introduced therein will make an appearance herein.

This starts almost as soon as 'Four O'clock' ended.

I hope you enjoy!

Several days after 'Four O'Clock' finished...

Stevens had got a six week suspension. Without pay. They'd all gone along to his hearing, for moral support, but it was clear that he had used excessive force. The only reason he still had a job was because of the extenuating circumstances.

Shawn bought him a drink, just one though, because Shawn was still sore and went home early. That's why he was alone in his apartment when the news came through. Truman and Randolf had been released on bail. Lassiter was halfway through his second beer when Buzz came running into the bar. He had been on duty, so he couldn't join them.

"They let them out!" he shouted, breathless as he joined his fellow officers.

"What?" Juliet exclaimed.

"Randolf and Truman made bail. They aren't considered a flight risk."

"What about Ellis?" Lassiter asked quietly, aware that all eyes were on him.

"Well, that's the good news, his 72 hour psych eval is up today, and he's been committed."

"I need to get to Shawn." Lassiter headed for the door.

"Better hurry, it's on the news. I thought he'd be here." Buzz replied apologetically.

Shawn was, of course, watching Channel Eight news (he preferred the weather girl). When he saw two of the men who kidnapped him staring back at him from the screen.

"... the two men, along with a third who is currently in the psychiatric ward of the local hospital, are accused of kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder. Their alleged victims were Shawn Spencer, the "Psychic" Detective, and Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective of the SBPD. They were released today on bail, following a preliminary hearing."

Shawn didn't hear any more. He dropped the pineapple smoothie he was drinking, and ran to his bedroom. From the bedside table, he pulled a loaded revolver. He had always kept a gun, in fact he had two, but they were usually in a locked box on the top shelf of his closet. Unloaded. It was only since he returned from the hospital that he started keeping one close to him, fully loaded and ready to go.

Then, suddenly, there came a rapping, of someone so harshly rapping at Shawn's chamber door.

"Spencer! Shawn!" Lassiter shouted through the closed door. "Open up!"

Shawn relaxed when he heard his friend's voice, but he didn't really want to deal with anyone right now.

"Shawn! Open up! It's just me." Lassiter called. Shawn hesitated. "I'll give you till the count of three and then I'm breaking down the door." Shawn couldn't help a laugh at that. He went over and opened the door.

"Hey."

"Hey. I take it you heard?" Lassiter asked, eyes going to the gun in Shawn's hand.

"Yeah. How can they do that?"

"There's actually very little evidence against them. And none of them had a record." Lassiter ran his hand through his hair. At that moment Shawn's cell phone rang. Shawn glanced at the caller ID and rolled his eyes.

"Gus!... Yes...no... I'm fine... yes, it's locked... Lassie's here, and I promise I'll stay inside... Gus, no, you wouldn't! I'll be good, scouts honour... well, it's the thought that counts... yes, it is, Gus... Look, I'll see you tomorrow. Meet you at the office, at ten? ... Yeah, you too buddy." He hung up, shaking his head. "He threatened to tell my dad. Can you believe that?"

"Yes." Lassiter smirked. "And even if he doesn't, I bet Henry will know within the hour anyway."

"Yeah. I suppose." He shoved the phone back into his pocket, and they went and sat on the sofa.

"How are you doing?"

"Fantabulous." Shawn rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to do that." Lassiter said gently. He'd seen Shawn without the mask.

"Yes I do." Shawn replied, looking at the floor. I have to. If I don't I'll break down completely. He was teetering on the edge as it was.

"Have you talked to anyone about what happened?" Lassiter asked, already knowing the answer. Shawn refused to even admit that certain things had happened. He refused to press charges for the molestation.

"I don't need to talk to anyone. Repression's worked fine for me for years."

"Yeah, repression worked so well for you that you ended up having a breakdown, getting pissed and showing up on my doorstep." Lassiter knew as soon as he said it, that he shouldn't have opened his big fat mouth.

Shawn got up and went into the kitchen. His shoulders were hunched and his control was slipping. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. He handed one to Lassie and sat down. Lassiter opened his mouth to continue the conversation, but Shawn very pointedly turned the sound up, and changed to channel to a movie channel that was showing The Princess Bride. He was saying in everything but words that Lassiter should shut up. He was lucky that Shawn had even let him in, and he knew that if he pissed Shawn off now that he'd be unceremoniously kicked out. He took the hint and sat back to enjoy the film.

Carlton had never seen The Princess Bride before. He liked Inigo Montoya. He also liked the competition of the minds with the Sicilian. Shawn couldn't hold back a grin as Lassiter stared hard at Wesley, wondering where he recognised him from.

Shawn shuffled off to bed, and Lassiter slept on the sofa, hand on his weapon, a nice 9 mil.

Lassiter woke up with a start, gun out of his holster and ready to kill. It was still pitch dark outside. He glanced at his watch, and snorted. Four o'clock in the morning. Wonderful. He tried to figure out what had woken him from his first sound sleep since the abduction. He listened hard and heard cries coming from Shawn's room. He was on his feet in an instant and racing into the pseudo-psychic's room, terrified that the crooked cops had come after him.

He burst into the room, gun drawn, and shouting a warning. He froze, sighed, and holstered his weapon. Shawn was alone in the room, thrashing and sobbing in his sleep.

"No... don't! Don't touch me!"

"Shawn. Shawn, wake up. It's just a bad dream." Lassiter put his hand out to shake the man awake, but as soon as he touched him, Shawn began thrashing wildly, and hitting out at him.

"No! Get off me !" He cried. Lassiter was worried that Shawn would do himself a damage if he didn't stop. He still had stitches in his back. The Head Detective grabbed Shawn by his shoulders and held him down firmly.

"Shawn! Shawn!" Lassiter said, shaking him firmly to punctuate each repetition of his name. "Shawn!"

Shawn's eyes opened wide and a shudder ran through his entire body. He gave a broken sob and blinked hard. His cheeks were wet. He took a couple of deep breaths, and it was only then that he seemed to register Lassiter's presence.

"Carlton?" He cleared his throat, nervously. "Lassie, I'm not that kind of boy." Lassiter frowned, and then it registered that he was practically lying on top of Shawn in Shawn's own bed.

"Sorry. You were having a nightmare."Lassiter eased back, but kept a hand on Shawn's shoulder and felt the fearful tremors running through the man.

"Coffee?" Shawn said, averting his eyes.

"Sure." Lassiter stepped back to allow Shawn to get up and together they made their way into the kitchen.

When they were both sat at the table with a mug of hot coffee in front of them, Lassiter gave Shawn a long assessing look.

"So?" was all he needed to say. Shawn knew he was asking about the dream.

"What?" He obfuscated.

"What did you dream?"

"Oh, you know. Same old. Truman, now that he's out on bail, comes back to finish the job. He's on top of me... forcing himself on me, and I'm yelling for help. I look down, and there you are. Tied up, the way you were, and you're dead." His voice was trembling.

"Shawn... maybe you need to talk to someone..."

"Nah. I've been in therapy since I was in diapers. My Mom's a head shrinker, remember? It doesn't do me any good, because I know all the right things to say."

"It doesn't have to be a shrink." Lassiter shifted nervously.

"Are you offering to listen to my innermost thoughts, Lassie?" Shawn grinned.

"I just meant that I... I was there. I know what happened..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Lassiter!" Shawn slammed his hand down on the table. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it, I don't want to dream about it."

"I get that, really I do. But you can't just pretend it didn't happen!"

"This coming from the only guy I know more emotionally constipated than me!"

"Hey! I'm trying to help! All I meant is that I know what you're going through."

"You know what I'm going through? I don't remember Truman sticking his hand down your pants!" Shawn shouted. "I don't remember you getting the skin whipped off your back!"

"Do you think it was any easier for me to watch them do that to you?"

"You have no idea what it's like!" Shawn yelled. "I feel him! I feel him all the time. Touching me. I keep telling myself to grow the fuck up. It's not like he got all the way, barely past first base. But I can't make him stop!"

"Shawn..."

"No! You have no right! Why did you wait? Did it turn you on to watch him feel me up? He was drunk, you could have stopped him. You could have got the gun off him!"

"He would have shot you!"

"So what!" Shawn screamed. Lassiter knew he didn't mean it. Well, he hoped he didn't mean it. But it was still hard to hear.

They both stood there, angry and panting, not sure what else to say.

So, what do you think? A good beginning? Tell me what you think. :) Y'all know how much I rely on reviews.