I know I originally had this posted as complete (a one-shot) but everyone who reviewed wanted a sequel (yay!!!) so here it is. But here's the thing... there are so many ideas bouncing around in my head right now, THERE ARE GOING TO BE MORE CHAPTERS TO THIS! I'll get around to all the suggestions from the reviews, I promise, but I had sudden inspiration, and needed to write this!!!! Please enjoy, and review!

On a normal day Juliet would find herself bored, or even annoyed with this part of her job. Today, she was saddened, sickened, and angered. Definitely not bored, though. Today, Juliet found herself wishing she could be anywhere but here. In fact, there was a very appealing pile of paperwork on Lassiter's desk that she would love to be doing for him.

Speaking of Lassiter—Juliet stole a glance at her quiet partner, taking in how his fists would clench and unclench as he studied his car. To anyone else this would seem a sign of irritation or disgust, but Juliet knew better. Being his partner of four years had taught her quite a bit about the closed off man next to her, and she recognized his motions as anxiety—as worry. She was worried too, and was much worse at hiding it than Carlton. She found herself constantly fidgeting, eyes flickering around the room aimlessly the way Shawn's seemed to do immediately before conversing with the spirits. The way that always seemed to indicate that he was seeing them and listening to them before he alerted those around him.

Shawn. Her stomach rolled, and Juliet was glad for the umpteenth time that morning that she had skipped breakfast—too worried about Shawn's condition to even consider eating.

"There's nothing more to see," murmured Carlton, seemingly as anxious as Juliet to get this over with—the wrap up. The case was solid enough that this step in the process probably wasn't even necessary, but the chief had insisted, saying that she wanted everything done to protocol. She didn't want the bastard's who had kidnapped and shot Shawn getting off easy. Well, bastard. One of them was dead now. Juliet flinched, wondering how Shawn must have felt as he watched a man get shot and bleed out in front of him. She knew he blamed himself for it, as irrational as that may be. It was one of the few things that had slipped between his lips while he was sobbing into his best friend on the hot asphalt.

Juliet nodded at Carlton and followed him back into the building, stealing one final glance at the streak of blood dried onto the windshield before escaping the heat and emerging into the air-conditioned station. It was eerily quiet, both from the heavy atmosphere in the building and the lack of Shawn.

Juliet's heels clicked purposefully on the floor as she walked, and she welcomed the distracting rhythm. She unconsciously matched her steps to Carlton's, following him down the stairs at the back of the department and into the evidence room. The final piece of evidence that they had to review was going to be the hardest to stomach. Even though Juliet knew Shawn was okay, and resting in the hospital at that very moment, the idea of him in any pain sent cold daggers into her core. Lassiter produced a pristine envelope, offering it to Juliet.

"O'Hara," he said, voice void of any emotion. Her hands shook as she undid the metal clasp holding the envelope shut, and shook it's contents gently into her hand. A smaller bag with a bloody shammy was placed gingerly on the cold, metal table adjacent to the shelves lining the walls. All that was left was a small black box, showing the end of the story—the video tape from Lassiter's dashboard camera.

Gingerly, she pushed the offending plastic into the VCR and pressed "play," watching the screen flicker with static before it started up. There was a bumpy shot of Santa Barbara streets from a week before, and Juliet hit fast forward until it showed a much darker lighting. She hit play again and stepped back, crossing her arms as she watched the investigation unfold.

She rolled her eyes occasionally, hearing Lassiter and Henry arguing over trivial things, and then suddenly the scene changed to one Juliet recognized. It was the drive over to the service station. She remembered that Lassiter and Henry had gone on foot, and was relieved they had. This way, the tape would be over much sooner, and she could see Shawn. She had been terrified by the state he had been in on the highway. The memory of goofy Shawn sobbing in terror would forever be burned into her memory, and she only hoped she would be able to suppress it.

Her attention flew back to the tape as Shawn's voice came through, albeit muffled. She smiled slightly, wondering how the psychic had managed to project his voice all the way to the tiny microphone inside Lassiter's car.

"Woo hoo! Go team!" The sound of wind rushing through the open car windows was crackling in the microphone, but Juliet's attention was focused on the video. She saw Shawn biting at his restraints, and wondered briefly where he would have been taken, and what would have been done to him had they not shown up when they did.

"I meant what I said. On the phone." She struggled to keep her panic under control as she watched from Lassiter's point of view, knowing that right then, Gus was turning him away from their car. Suddenly she could hear him over the speaker—clear as a bell.

"Move closer!" She jumped as Lassiter's voice shot through the speakers at a deafening volume.

"Don't you dare jump on this vehicle! This is a brand new vehicle!" There was a pause where Juliet could practically see how Shawn's eyebrows would pull together in disbelief.

"I have been shot! I am jumping on somebody's car!" Juliet bit her lip, holding back a laugh that was pressing at her vocal chords. Trust Shawn to sound so goofy in such a dire situation.

"No, Shawn. Shawn, no. No no no, son!" she heard Henry plead, followed by a pained yell and a loud "thunk" as Shawn suddenly came into view, obstructing quite a bit of the road. She could heard Lassiter and Henry groaning, could see where the red stain would sit on the windshield. "Stop the car!" roared Henry, and Juliet could see his hand reaching past the camera towards the glass that separated him from his son.

"Don't you dare stop this car, Lassie!" came Shawn's muffled reply as the car sped past the assailants truck.

"Hold on, son," urged Henry, still holding out his arms uselessly towards the younger Spencer. Shawn's eyes rolled, and Juliet sucked in a breath as she worried that he would pass out. Of course, she reminded herself, that was absurd as she knew he had made it and was presently sitting in a hospital bed.

"Good idea, Dad. I was thinking of not doing that!" Juliet smirked, wondering how Shawn managed to infuse so much energy and sarcasm into his voice with a bullet wound while clinging to the hood of a car going over 60 miles per hour. Her heart was pounding in her chest with all the adrenaline resulting from watching this film, and she could only imagine how it had felt for Shawn. The pain must have been excruciating with the increase of blood surging through his injury site which had been jostled—to put it lightly—when he had leapt onto Lassiter's hood.

Lassiter and Henry were fighting over the gun, but Juliet's attention was stuck to the man on the hood of the car. When he spoke next, Juliet's mouth hung open in shock.

"Give me the gun—I have the shot. Give me the gun!" Shawn let go of the car with one hand, pressing his body closer to the vehicle to maintain stability. What shocked Juliet the most wasn't that his dad actually gave him the gun, or even that he managed to shoot out the radiator in the red truck from the hood of a speeding car with only three bullets—though that was very impressive in itself. No, what Juliet shocked Juliet most was what happened after everything had stopped and Shawn's profile had become visible by the camera.

"Nice shooting, Detective." Juliet turned to her partner, grinning unabashed at the embarrassment evident in his face.

"Detective?" she asked, just as Shawn was saying,

"Did you just call me Detective?" Juliet smiled, turning back to the screen but not really watching the video. She already knew what happened next, having been there for most of it, and didn't particularly want to see or hear Shawn in such distress ever again. To distract herself she kept rolling "Detective" around in her mind, pairing it with "Shawn," "Spencer," and sometimes even both.

A small smile intruded her face as she mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Lassiter, searching transparently for any distraction so as not to have to watch what was next on the tape. Juliet wondered why they couldn't just say they had watched it and turn it off, but knew protocol was protocol.

"Nothing, nothing," she said, waving off his question with a flick of her wrist. Inwardly, though, she said it again.

"Detective Shawn Spencer."

You know, she mused to herself. Somehow, it works.