Disclaimer: Psych & all related characters do not, and never will, belong to me.
Belief
"Guster. Henry. How is he?" Carlton Lassiter asked as he walked into the hospital room, looking awkward and out of place, his partner by his side and the chief just behind them.
"No better, no worse," Henry said tersely, his eyes flickering to the detectives before going right back to his son.
"Oh, Shawn," Juliet whispered, her gaze also going to the comatose man on the bed, her eyes filling with tears.
"How are you holding up, Henry? Mr. Guster?" Karen asked, concern evident in her voice.
"Never better, Karen. My son's in a coma and I'm just swell," Henry snarled, knowing he was being rude but not caring. Really, how did she think he was holding up?
"They say if he doesn't wake up in about a day he may never," Gus said quietly and Juliet let out a sob, her hand squeezing Shawn's.
"Don't worry, he'll wake up," Lassiter said then, sounding strangely confident.
"What makes you say that, Detective?" Henry asked gruffly.
"He's a Spencer," Lassiter said, shrugging as though that explained it.
And maybe it did.
End.
A/N: If you want to know more, and/or you're curious about how Shawn ended up in the situation, this little snippet was originally intended as a part of chapter 9 of my series of oneshots, "Are You a Fan of Delicious Flavor". I just could never quite make it fit to my satisfaction so it got left out... until now. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are love!