Ow. Fuck. Hurts. These were the first thoughts that floated in Shawn's barely conscious mind. He wanted to go back to sleep, his head was killing him. Really. He wished he could cut it off, but that seemed counter-productive. Maybe I should open my eyes, that seems like the next step once you wake up.

Shit. Stupid idea.

The light was blinding. It made the pounding in the back of his head increase. As if the pain bunnies suddenly found meth. Ha, that was kind of funny. Maybe Jules would like to hear that joke.

Jules!

The grogginess faded and Shawn blinked furiously. Where was she? She was with him earlier on the stake out. Had something happened? Yes! That was it! He had stupidly gotten out of the car to buy them some coffee, flirted a little with the barista, and then something must've happened as he was walking back. Yes, pain in the back of his head, a yell, and then blackness! He was knocked unconscious! But what about Juliet? Was she who yelled? Or did she stay in the car?

As his vision gradually cleared, Shawn took in his surroundings. Contrary to his first impression it was lit only by one light bulb jutting out of a plaster wall. The room was a gross grey/green color and looked like it wasn't taken care of well. There weren't many objects laying around, except for one empty box he would have to examine later. He could feel that his hands were tied together as were his feet. Thankfully he wasn't gagged. But this proved he was a hostage. Fun. The only distinguishable shape in the blank room was... Juliet!

"Jules! Juliet! Are you ok?" He was frantically crawling and squirming to reach her prone figure. His too-observant eyes instantly sweeped over the torn fabric of her blazer's arms, the disheveled state of her bun which was falling apart, the bruisings on her knuckles and forearms, and the marks around her neck suggesting attempted (or successful) strangulation. She had obviously gotten out of the safety of the car to defend him and catch the perp. Her hands and feet were tied like Shawn's. She wasn't moving...

"Jules, wake up, tell me you're ok." Shawn whispered as his bound hands tried to roll her onto her back. She groaned in pain, but to Shawn it was the best sound in the world.

"Hey Jules, you're awake! I'm afraid I got sidetracked getting the coffee. Welcome to our living quarters for the time being." He said as cheerfully as he could. Jules moaned again.

"Anyone ever tell you your voice sucks in the morning?" He noticed how raspy and painful it sounded for her to talk.

"Yes actually, some find my chipper attitude to be a bit abrasive. I would have died years ago if I ever woke up early enough to visit Lassie before his morning coffee." This brought Shawn a soft snort of laughter from the blonde.

"What happened? You — you were attacked!" Jules tried to sit up but stopped with a hiss. A frightened Shawn put his hands over her stomach.

"I'm fine, he just hit me with some metal thing in the back of the head. It's happened before. But you got in a real fight. Can I look at you?" Had the situation not been so serious Shawn would try to make that sound dirtier. As it was, Jules still blushed but she nodded. He carefully pulled up the red sweater she was wearing, skillful eyes sweeping the skin for anything serious, until right beneath her bra. He could feel a small shiver as he gently moved her shirt up, but ignored it completely, in shock at what he found. On the left side of her torso there was a lot of bruising along her ribs. She might've been hit either with the metal thing or with the guy's fists. Shawn gingerly placed his hands on it, relieved when it wasn't abnormally warm (possibly indicating no internal bleeding), and nothing was sticking out at a strange angle. That coupled with the fact that she seemed to be breathing normally suggested that the ribs weren't broken, but probably fractured. He relayed the good news. Jules nodded and Shawn pulled her sweater back down. "You can keep lying down, there's no rush. Apparently we have cooties." Jules nodded again with a wince. Shawn however was still examining her, mostly taking in her neck. "They strangled you? That's how they got you unconscious so you couldn't kick their ass? Don't nod this time, I know they both hurt but it's better if you speak." She swallowed.

"Yes, I rushed out when you went down, he came at me with the pipe, I dodged and punched, he got me in the side, I fell, he closed around my throat, I blacked out." She sounded so hoarse, but the self-derision was still obvious from her tone. Shawn felt guilt flood through him, growing stronger with each pound of his head.

If I hadn't needed coffee for a stake out —thump— if I hadn't blown our cover —thump— if I hadn't wasted time flirting —thump— if I had paid more attention —thump— if I was stronger —thump— if I hadn't brought Jules into this —thump— I wish it was me —thump.

"I am so sorry Juliet. It's my fault." Maybe that would stop the guilt. "If I hadn't left and blown our cover—"

"No." Her voice was weak and softer than before, but Shawn was listening so desperately to any sound she made. "Not your fault. Cops need coffee all the time. Stake outs even more. I should have called Lassiter and Gus."

"They'll figure it out soon enough, they're smart-ish and they know where we were. Once we don't check in they'll follow our tracks from there. Absolutely nothing to worry about. And at this rate our lovely hosts wont even interrupt us! We just have to wait it out." Shawn hoped he sounded reassuring. He was barely conscious of what was coming out of his mouth. But that was what Shawn did: he talked, he joked, and he flirted. In any given situation. There was no guarantee when the others would realize their partners had gone missing. They were all the way across town at the other probable location for the drug deal which obviously was a dud. They could wait all night and never call their phones. And even then the crime scene might not provide any noticeable clues. So far escape wasn't a promising option. They were stuck.