Can I tell you a secret?
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its characters.
Summary: What does Shawn find to talk about when he's on pain killers? Lassiter is about to find out.
"You can take him home whenever you're ready," a nurse told head detective Carlton Lassiter.
"What? Me?" Carlton said startled when the nurse addressed him. "I'm not next of kin or anything. I just came because, well, the chief ordered me to go with him."
"Well, he can go home and since no one else is here to take him," the nurse stated trailing off before finishing her sentence.
"Shouldn't he at least stay overnight or something? I mean the guy had surgery."
"Dr. Monty put four pins in his leg," she said reading the chart. "I'm sorry, but we're full. The few beds we do have are in ICU and we can't use those for a broken leg. Now just take him home, watch him for the next twenty-four hours, if he won't wake up or has severe bleeding from the wound, bring him back."
"Me?" he asked again. This time the nurse rolled her eyes and turned to leave.
"Oh," she turned back remembering more instructions. "Here is a prescription for pain and I've already given him something fairly strong. He should doze off soon, but if he starts talking a little odd that's just the medication."
Carlton took the prescription and watched the nurse walk away. A moment later he saw an orderly pushing a wheelchair down the hall with Shawn Spencer looking a little worse for wear. The second Shawn caught sight of the detective his face cheered. "Hey, Lassieface!" he called drawing the attention of several people.
"Come on, Spencer. I guess I'm driving you home," Carlton motioned for the orderly to follow.
Spencer seemed okay in the car as they left the hospital. He was quiet, but Carlton attributed that to the pain medicine. The stoic detective hit a speed bump jarring the psychic, causing a sharp intake of breath. "Sorry," Carlton told him. "You live on State?"
"Yeah, apartment 203."
"203? It's upstairs?"
"Sure," Shawn answered staring out of the passenger side window.
Carlton sighed. "Well, geez, Spencer I can't leave you there by yourself."
"Why not? I can manage. I've done it before," Shawn said as if it were no big deal.
"Where's Guster?" Carlton asked.
"L. A. and don't bother calling, I've already tried. He turned off his phone. Can you believe that?"
"Yes," Carlton answered. "I can absolutely believe that." Then a thought hit him, why hadn't he thought about it before now. "I'm taking you to your father's house. I can't believe I didn't even think to call him when you were hurt. I could have avoided all of this."
"Thanks, Buddy," Shawn said sarcastically. "But I'd rather you just drop me off at my apartment or even the Psych office. There's a couch, I'll be fine."
"Spencer, you had surgery and pins put in your leg. I'm taking you to your dad's."
There was silence in the car for a few minutes. "Did you know Gus was stuck up there when we were kids?" Shawn said out of the blue.
"Stuck where?"
"Up there on that sign. He jumped up, did a flip through the clouds and landed inside the jelly."
Confused, Carlton looked up at the giant jelly donut on top of the coffee shop's roof. "Okay," he said warily. "Are you alright?" He asked unsure about what to do.
"I've never felt better. Do you know my friend Jules?"
"I think I've met her once or twice," Carlton told him wondering what was coming next and why he had yet to pass the slow-moving concrete truck in front of him.
"She's worried," Shawn told him.
"Worried about what?" Carlton asked concerned. "Is everything okay?"
"Hey, my nose itches," the injured man said rubbing his face. "Why does my nose itch?"
"I don't know," Carlton was curious about what Shawn was going to say about O'Hara.
"Do you know my friend Jules?' Shawn asked again.
"Yes," was the detective's answer this time. He leaned his elbow on the driver's side window and covered the grin forming with his hand. "What about her?"
"I like her a lot. Did you know my dad was a cop?" Shawn jumped to another subject.
"I know, he was a good one," Lassiter commented. How much farther he wondered looking at his surroundings. They would have to get on the freeway soon and it was Friday afternoon. He hoped traffic was running smoothly.
"The best. My dad always got his man. He was a detective like my friend Lassie. He's retired now, I keep telling him he retired too early." Carlton was momentarily thrown by the word 'friend'.
"Really? Why do you think he retired to early?"
"I don't know, I think he wanted to cook. He has a whisk."
"He is a great cook."
"Yeah, he wanted me to be a cop. But I just didn't have the heart for it, I guess," Carlton knew that wasn't true. Shawn cared about helping people. That's why he did what he did. "You want to know a secret?"
"Sure, why not? Spencer," this was it, Carlton thought. Spencer was finally going to admit he wasn't a psychic. Lassiter wondered briefly if the confession would be accepted by the chief since the other man was under the influence.
"Okay, but don't say anything to my dad," when Carlton nodded his agreement Shawn continued. "I actually went to the academy."
Carlton's brow creased, "What to use the bathroom?"
Shawn laughed out loud, "No. I went. I signed up and went through all the training and classes and all that stuff."
Carlton was truly shocked. "You graduated?"
"Yep, I graduated and I even got an award."
Lassiter could only think of two awards that were handed out at the academy. "Most improved?" he asked thinking it couldn't have possibly been the other award.
"No, Best in Class," Shawn answered.
"Why aren't you a cop?"
"I told you, I didn't have the heart for it," Shawn said in an almost whine. "Are going to be there soon?"
Carlton looked, the exit for Henry's house was coming up next. "Soon. Why don't you want your dad to know? He would be proud."
"He thinks I never finish anything." Shawn told him then, "Hey, can we stop and get pancakes?" He was being to slur his words.
"No," he answered. "You said you graduated," Carlton didn't understand.
"But I didn't follow through to become an officer," he yawned.
"You completed the course," Carlton argued.
"My dad wouldn't see it that way. The next step to completing the course would be to become an officer, then a detective, then captain, until eventually chief or even commissioner. Is there a commissioner? My nose still itches. It's all part of a whole. Graduating the academy isn't completing anything, it's just one step towards where he wants me."
Carlton actually felt a little sorry for the psychic. When he had finished his training Carlton's father had come up and clapped him on the back and told him how proud he was. "You didn't even give him a chance. If you had told him, he might have surprised you."
"Do these seats recline?" Shawn asked unsuccessfully trying to suppress another yawn.
"I'm not sure."
"I did everything he always taught me, but it was never enough. I didn't want to see the disappointment when I told him I wasn't going to be a cop. I didn't even tell Gus. Everyone thought I was somewhere riding my bike across the country, which I did, but I snuck back. I went to see my dad once, but the house was all boarded up, he was gone. Hey, the beach! My dad lives over here. Somewhere," Shawn said looking confused. "Did I tell you he was a cop?"
Carlton covered another grin. The guy was completely out of it. "Where was you dad?"
"When?" Shawn asked leaning his head against the window.
"When you went to the house and it was boarded up?" But he didn't get an answer. Carlton realized the younger Spencer had finally dozed off.
When Carlton pulled up to Henry Spencer's door it was close to six o'clock. He hoped the ex-cop was home and was not disappointed. Henry came to the door, smiling when he saw the detective standing on the porch. "Carlton, come in."
"I really can't. I just came by to drop off Shawn."
"Drop him off?" He asked stepping through the door. He could see his son leaning against the passenger side window obviously asleep. "Is he drunk?" He asked surprised, that was so unlike Shawn.
"No, no, he was injured. Broke his leg. I gave him a ride from the hospital. He really shouldn't be alone," Carlton told him then handed over the prescription and told him what the nurse had said.
Making their way to the car Henry seemed angry, "That damn motorcycle," Lassiter heard him say under his breath.
"He didn't have a motorcycle accident. He got hurt working on a case for the department. He was knocked off a loading ramp. He only fell about five feet, but he landed funny."
"On a case?" Henry opened the door and gently tried to wake Shawn. "Son, come on. Let's get you inside. Give me a hand, Carlton."
"Oh, yeah, sure," the other man said stepping forward. Each put one of Shawn's arms over their shoulders and helped him slowly make his way to the house.
"Hey, Dad," Shawn said groggily. "I broke my leg again."
"I can see that Shawn. What is that, three times now?"
"Four and this time I had to have pins put in it. The bone was sticking out and everything. It was really cool. Gus would have hated it."
"It won't be so cool when those pain killers wear off," Henry assured him. "His bedroom's this way."
Lassiter helped Henry lay Shawn down on a twin bed in what he guessed was Shawn's childhood room. While Henry took off Shawn's one shoe and got a blanket, Carlton looked around at the book shelves and a scarred desk.
The shelves were loaded with everything imaginable. There were sports trophies, mostly track and baseball, and a few ribbons, one first place at an elementary school science fair. Shawn didn't seem like the science fair type. There was every book imaginable. Carlton smiled as he picked up a Hardy Boys book. The whole collection was there. The mirror over the dresser was covered in pictures. Lassiter stepped back to the bookshelf. He quickly found Shawn's senior yearbook. "He had a lot of friends," he commented, noting the signatures that covered the book.
"Yeah, he's always been the life of the party," Henry said smoothing the blanket around his son's feet. Lassiter thought he heard a note of disappointment in the older man's voice.
Carlton replaced the book, "He sure has a lot of awards."
"Let me tell you a little something about Shawn. He can do anything he sets his mind to do. It's getting him to set his mind to it that's the problem."
They left the room and Henry closed the door behind them. "He seems to be doing well as a P. I." Carlton said not sure why he was defending the psychic, when he didn't even believe he was one.
Henry gave a derisive laugh. "He'll quit that too, eventually. When he gets bored."
"Well, he gets it done," Carlton smiled. "Why don't you let me go get that filled? He probably shouldn't be left alone."
"Oh, that's nice of you, but..."
"It's the least I can do. If it hadn't been for his help today there would be several thousand kilos of cocaine out on the street," Carlton said. He didn't know why he wanted Henry to know how much Shawn had helped out.
"Okay, if you're sure," Henry said watching the detective walk to his car.
After Carlton had left, he went back to Shawn's room. He was sleeping, a grimace marring his face. Several thousand kilos would not be in the hands of kids tonight because his son had found it. Maybe Carlton was right. Maybe Shawn was getting it done. Henry wasn't certain, but he did know he was proud of the kid. He just wished he knew how to tell him.
The End.
I hope you like this one. I thought it would be funny to see how Shawn might act if he were impaired.