Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
This was the tag that I imagined to "Right Turn or Left For Dead," which was an excellent episode. Enjoy!
Henry Spencer was sitting, beer in hand and shrouded with guilt, when the doorbell rang. Lloyd had left some time ago, but his conversation with Shawn still weighed heavily on his mind.
"Selfish SOB," he muttered to himself, remembering how self-involved his first words to his clearly devastated son had been. It was too late to take those words back, though. He had tried to put a bandaid on the situation, but as usual, Shawn was up and running before he could muster up an apology.
Heaving a sigh, Henry opened the door and drew in a sharp intake of breath at the sight before him. Gus was acting as a human crutch for his son, who looked completely out of it.
"Can we come in?" Gus queried, looking flustered.
Henry immediately moved to take up Shawn's weight on the opposite side as he half-dragged both younger men toward the couch.
"What the hell happened?" he growled at Gus, concern evident in his eyes.
"Well," Gus started as he helped prop Shawn up on the couch, "I came to the office to see how he was doing. Juliet must have just left because I saw her car pulling away, and I don't have to guess what happened in THAT conversation. Shawn was rambling a bunch of nonsense, but then I saw the" - here Gus visibly shuddered - "blood."
"Blood?" Henry exclaimed, voice ratcheting up a notch. He moved Shawn gently, taking in the blood staining the back of his shirt.
"Yeah, apparently that crazy girl stabbed him," Gus said, throwing his hands up in the air, "and Shawn didn't feel the need to tell anyone. I took him to the ER, and the doctor put in some stitches. Mild concussion, stab wound and a slight fever from all of the 'stress' was the exact diagnosis." At this point in the narrative, Gus threw Shawn a look that was half panicked concern and half 'I'm going to kill you.'
Henry looked at Shawn, who hadn't stirred since being deposited on the couch. "Gus, go get a blanket from Shawn's room, please." Gus moved quickly to comply, looking relieved that someone else was taking charge.
As soon as Gus left the room, Henry sat next to his son, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. The reaction was immediate. Shawn's eyes flew to his dad's face and a broken whisper passed his lips.
"I screwed up."
Henry's heart broke. He pulled Shawn into an embrace without hesitation, mindful of his injured back. They sat that way for some time. Henry tried not to flinch when he felt the warm, silent tears soak into his shirtsleeve.
A not-so-subtle "ahem" eventually pulled Henry back to reality. Gus was standing in the doorway, blanket in hand, looking extremely uncomfortable.
Realizing how slack Shawn had become in his arms, Henry gently stretched him out on the couch. Gus moved in with the blanket, and the two men stood for a moment watching Shawn sleep.
"You saw nothing," Henry growled quietly at Gus, although his voice lacked menace.
"You got that right," Gus responded, giving Shawn one more concerned look before turning to head for the kitchen.
Henry hung back for a moment longer. Could he fix this mess? No. Shawn was an adult, and he had made his own bed. He would do his damnedest, though, to make sure the kid knew that he had his back.