"Shouldn't we wait for Diesel and Rodriguez before we slap the cuffs on him?" Shawn teased, succeeding for the most part in keeping all signs of agony out of his voice. A trickle of blood made its way down his chest, and Shawn glanced down in time to see it come in contact with his shirt, staining it crimson near his stomach. Okay, that's more than a trickle. He lifted his good arm to press the shammy against the wound more securely, biting his lip to trap the cry that threatened to break free. He could hear the threatening tone to Lassiter and Henry's voices—Dad's voice. There was a loud bang, and Shawn glances up to see his kidnappers head colliding with Lassiter's police car as he was shoved into the back seat.
"Oops. I'm sorry, did I do that?" Shawn rolled his eyes, remembering how Lassie had done the exact same thing to him when he had solved his first case—well, his first case with the SBPD. He didn't count his Channel 8 News reveals. The thumping of rubber slapping concrete grew steadily louder, and Shawn looked up to see his best friend alternately throwing him worried glances and gesturing angrily at Jules. Shawn smiled as he read his best friend's lips. Do you know how bad this is for my car?
"Spencer!" Shawn whipped his head around at Lassiter's gruff warning, only to see it was directed at his dad. "If you so much as touch my car or my perp I will arrest you and kill you!"
"Not necessarily in that order," muttered Shawn, chuckling at his own joke.
"What was that, Spencer?" Lassiter asked whipping around to glare at Shawn.
"Watch yourself, Clark Kent. You're burning holes through me with your eyes." Lassiter's gaze softened, and Shawn groaned quietly.
"What's wrong?" both men asked simultaneously. Shawn shook his head, rolling his eyes as they both approached him tentatively.
"I'm fine, but Lassie-face I'm ashamed of you! I can't believe you let that go so easily. You're acting like I got shot or something!" Shawn snickered while the elder Spencer just shook his head slowly. The sound of a car door slamming reached his ears, and Shawn's attention shot towards the limping blue Echo, still driven by Juliet.
"Fearless Guster!" whooped Shawn, realizing that his friend had gotten fed up with the slow pace, and had jumped from the moving vehicle. Gus was immediately at Shawn's side panicking.
"Oh God, Shawn! Are you okay? Of course you're not! I'm sorry I was so slow yesterday, but you did kind of wake me up…"
"Gus, I'm fine," Shawn said, trying to reassure his friend by standing up.
"Or not," muttered Lassiter as Shawn felt his body hit Lassiter's.
"Hmm. I could have sworn I was keeping vertical pretty well," mused Shawn, allowing the older detective to lower him to the concrete to lean against his car. The pain came back in waves as his shoulder blade came to rest on the hot metal of Lassiter's car, and Shawn leaned forward, breathing harshly as the sticky material over his exit wound peeled off the car. He could feel the concern radiating from the people around him, and for once in his life Shawn felt uncomfortable in the center of the attention. He chuckled nervously.
"Um, so I'm not going to die or anything, you know?" he mused, his dynamics altering dramatically at intervals as he continued. "So this bedside manner thing is kind of redundant, just like when…" The thick cloud fogging his brain was disorienting to say the least, and Shawn sighed. "Damn. I was sure that was going somewhere good, too!"
"Shawn!" His head snapped up at the voice, and he immediately regretted it. His fingers tried to dig through the asphalt, scraping their tips raw as a broken moan caught in his throat. His head slammed down to rest on his raised knees, the tears leaking from his eyes moistening the fabric on his knees. He felt a presence beside him, felt a small hand lightly come to rest on his right hand. Shawn knew it was only going to be a matter of minutes before the ambulance arrived, but to him mere seconds would have been too long.
MacQuarrie's shocked expression as several bullets punched through his chest flashed across Shawn's closed eyelids and he whimpered, too drained to care about the faces gazing down at him in worry. Too tired to care that Lassie may hold this over his head a few months in the future. He watched again and again as the man's body collapsed, blood spattering the floor around him as he writhed in agony. His eyes stared into Shawn's full of pain, regret, and then finally fading to nothing as he breathed his last breath and died. Blood continued to pump from the man at a steady stream, killing him a second time by drowning. Shawn wished desperately to be able to close MacQuarrie's eyes, but could only sob silently. He could only allow the unnamed ringleader in their sick scheme to drag him from the floor and out to a truck, tying him in the back.
A gentle squeeze brought him back to the present somewhat, but he was all too aware of the blood fleeing from his body too fast. Too fast! Too fast! His eyes opened to see the blood of his kidnapper spotting his once pristine shoes, and all at once he couldn't get a certain redheaded woman out of his head. You let him die, she hissed, tears flooding her eyes. You let him die!
"Stop it!" Shawn screamed, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he reached down and ripped off his shoes. He stood up, dislodging Juliet's hand, and threw them as far as he could. "It's not my fault!" The plea ripped from his throat, and he reached up to grip it. His hands jumped away as they found the bruises where he had been choked into silence. "I didn't want him to die!" he assured her, his voice a broken whisper as he fell to his knees. The woman from the picture just shook her head, tears streaking down her reddened cheeks. She turned away, shoulders slumping as she cried.
"No." Shawn slammed his fists against the ground, the sharp concrete biting into the skin already raw from various restraints.
"Shawn, stop it!" cried Gus, kneeling beside his broken friend and restraining his frantic arms. Shawn's body went limp as he cried. His face turned up to face Gus, the broken expression on it tearing at the other man's heart. "It's okay now," he assured him, glad his best friend wasn't resisting.
"Gus," Shawn mumbled, his sobs reduced to a flow of tears to rival the trailing blood from his wound," I killed him." Gus looked confused, knowing that Shawn would never raise a gun against someone-even to save his own life. "I convinced him to let me call…" he trailed off, feeling Juliet stiffen behind him. He knew how much he must have hurt her with what he'd said, and added to the emotions raging within him it was too much. All his pains came back at once, and he recounted where he had gotten each with perfect clarity, cursing his photographic memory for the sick games it had been playing with him.
His left arm ached from where it had collided with the rolling platform when he dove after his phone.
His ankle throbbed, and Shawn figured it had probably been turned while running through the woods.
His head pounded from where he had first hit it in the trunk of the car, and then from where he had been knocked unconscious with a phone.
His chest screamed in protest from when he had body slammed onto Lassiter's windshield, and Shawn thought he detected a few bruised if not broken ribs.
His shoulder burned where the single bullet had torn at his flesh, burning the skin and tearing through layers of muscle and bone.
Shawn let his upper body fall, relaxing against Gus' chest and sobbing for all he was worth. The approaching wail of an ambulance provided some comfort as Shawn felt suddenly warm, his vision growing fuzzy around the edges.
"Spencer!" barked Lassiter, his tone laced with concern. "Dammit," he muttered angrily. "Spencer, why didn't you tell us you were still bleeding?" Shawn looked down at his shoulder, feeling his facial expression shift slowly, not really registering the stain quickly widening to encompass his entire left chest.
"Oh." He watched, fascinated, as the stain grew, slowly spreading like wildfire as it expanded its boundaries. "Ow." The sound of the ambulance was fading, and Shawn pointed this out with a little difficulty. His dad cursed, and did what he did best—grabbed the police radio and started issuing orders. The sirens started growing louder again, and Shawn was suddenly gripped by panic. He reached up to grab Gus' shirt, holding as tightly as he could, he pulled his friend's ear down to his mouth.
"Jules," he rasped, his throat constricting as he forced out the word. His lips were suddenly parched, and Shawn knew that could only hurt his situation. Gus nodded, and quickly transferred Shawn to Juliet, making up some excuse about going to assess the damage to his car. He reached up and gripped her hand tightly.
"You're going to be fine, Shawn," Juliet assured him, her voice wavering.
"I meant what I said." He paused then added, "On the phone." Her eyes widened slightly, but to her credit Juliet was good at hiding surprise. This was one of the reasons she was such a good cop, Shawn mused.
"Shawn, I…"
"It's okay if you don't," he continued, cutting her off. His words were fast, and soft enough that Juliet had to strain to hear. He nodded his head so she would place her head where he could whisper in her ear. Probably blocking his mouth so none of the cops—employed or retired—could read what he was saying on his lips.
"Shawn," she hissed, trying to stop him before he could degrade himself, but she was unsuccessful.
"It's okay if you don't, because I'm not good enough. I wasn't before and I'm definitely not now." Juliet felt her brow crease, confused as to how being shot and kidnapped would make him somehow not good enough. He would always be good enough, and she needed him to know. She parted her lips to say what she had been about to on the phone when the ambulances ascended on them and chaos ensued
Shawn was quickly taken from her arms and Henry was in an ambulance with his son before she could react.
"Jules?" she followed his scared voice, stopping at the open doors of the ambulance as his partially lidded eyes searched frantically for her. When they found her, Shawn's whole body seemed to relax, and he let his eyes close.
"Shawn?" She sensed that Shawn had something else to say to her, and even though she knew her heart shouldn't be leaping like a teenager's who had just fallen in love, she couldn't very well tell it that, could she?
"I'm not good enough, Jules," he sighed, causing her heart to drop to her feet. The doors started to close, but Juliet could swear she heard the psychic say something dark, and completely unlike him before the doors closed him off to the harsh world.
"I've got too much blood on my hands."
A.N. So, what did you all think? Reviews are VERY much appreciated! (Thoughtful reviews are especially nice.) I know this has been done before, but I think I did it very differently from everyone else. I know I ended this on a dark note, but if you want me to post a sequel I think I have a happy idea forming in my head at this instant. So please review and tell me… do you want a sequel? Do you have a preference where it takes place? (No hospital! My hospital scenes always feel forced and it's been done. Something original!) Thanks!