Thanks for the feedback guys :D And thanks to my awesome betas - you know who you are *hugs insanely tightly*
The sort of calm chaos I had been observing suddenly cracked and shattered as the emergency services pulled up. An ambulance, two patrol cars and a civilian car I couldn't really make out in the darkness. At least, I thought it was a civilian car.
Navy blue uniforms darted off like choreographed insects around the perimeter of the scene, as one rugby tackled the attacker coming up from behind the two cops in a rather impressive manner.
I shielded my eyes against the sudden harsh glow of the explosion of fireworks and the vehicle lights that so rudely tore through my retinas. Squinting, I could make out a man in a suit, whom I assumed to be the renowned Lassiter run over to the two cops, crouching in front of the blonde girl.
They exchanged words I couldn't hear before she was whisked away by the paramedics. She seemed to be relatively fine, if slightly uncomfortable at the sudden attention. The boy stood up to face Lassiter – even with limited vision I could tell he was swaying a little. Lassiter placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
A pause in the explosions overheard allowed me to hear his muffled, if reluctant, query into his well-being. The boy shook it off; looking at his colleague as if he'd mortally offended him before suddenly pitching forward, only to be clumsily saved by the new arrival, who lowered him to the ground.
Out of pure instinct, I darted closer, kneeling behind a stout shrub as I peered through the branches. It was almost like I was observing role reversal – the cop was now slumped against the lanky new comer whom, even under the circumstances, looked a little disgruntled at the close contact. Nevertheless, professionalism seemed to overcome the apparent need for distance between the two as he started to gently run his hands down the cop's body, checking for any apparent injuries.
"Please, Detective, save it for the bedroom...."
... Was I missing something between these two?
"Shut up, Spencer." The Detective grumbled. His face turned from annoyance to genuine concern as his long fingers apparently brushed a sensitive spot across the younger man's – Spencer's – abdomen. He paled slightly as the cop suddenly gripped his arm, yanking his probing hand away with a sharp yell.
"Spencer..." His hands were back at Spencer's jacket, gently opening his jacket. I suddenly noticed the light stain upon it, coating it a slightly darker shade than the rest of the blue material making me suddenly apprehensive to witness the damage below. I looked away.
"Oh my God..." I heard him gulp and I opened my own eyes to follow his gaze towards the younger man's stomach. What I'm guessing was once a blue shirt was now quite clearly a glittering red in the moonlight – almost reminiscent of the red sparkly glue my son used to draw with all those years ago. It had completely saturated through to a point where I believe both myself and Lassiter were mutual in the disbelief that he was still awake and aware, let alone alive.
Shaking himself out of the initial shock, clinical thought seemed to set in once more and Lassiter cupped his hand over the still pulsing bullet hole, ignoring Spencer who tried to squirm away, making his discomfort loudly known.
"I need a medic!" he roared, but of course the ambulance had already left. I'd only reported one injury and I realised with a sinking feeling that yet more blood could end up on my hands. Lassiter was back to addressing his colleague once again, "You moron, Spencer! Why did you tell them you were fine?!"
He told the EMTs he was fine... to make sure that the girl got all the attention he felt she deserved. The realization was almost haunting.
"C'mon, Lassie..." he ground out, breath hitching, "Couldn't let... Jules..." he was cut off as Lassiter pressed harder on the wound in a vain attempt to stop the flowing pool of liquid ruby, flowing out onto the glistening, emerald grass. He let out a breathy cry as he tried to push very solid arms away.
"Let go, please... please let me go..."
There was something oddly shattering about watching him plead with the Detective above him.
"I'm sorry," Lassiter muttered, closing his eyes lightly in apparent regret, but not before I saw a small glint of... defeat? Guilt? Why would he feel guilty? It wasn't his fault that I told them there was only one injury.
I rubbed my arm absently. Well, I never was very good at math. One person, three people – what's the difference? Well this was certainly an interesting way to enter the new decade.
Spencer nodded, his already translucent face seeming to glare a fiercer pale in the moonlight, challenging even the pale glow of the moon itself as Lassiter appeared to place the majority of his body weight on the palm keeping Spencer's blood where it should be. He shuddered and groaned under the none too gentle touch.
"Alright, Shawn..." He gruffly soothed – yeah, oxymoron basically summed up this guy, "Ambulance'll get here any second now."
Spencer laughed humourlessly. Almost bitter. Shards of ruby glinting on his teeth to roll gracefully onto his already stained lips, "Make that sound like a good thing, Lass-"
He cried out again weakly as his colleague continued to press harder on his stomach. Rife sobs filled the air, the officers around pausing momentarily to throw sad glances in their direction.
"I'm dying, Lassie..." he said, in between soft sniffs, "Can tell. Your eyes tell."
Lassiter's eyes briefly flicked away, before looking down at him...
Angrily?
"Don't be such a girl, Spencer. It's not that bad," Man, this Spencer was a sharp one. The calm hardness in the Detective's eyes gave away just how not calm he was, "You'll be fine."
Sirens in the distance. About bloody time.
One of the taller officers edged forward slightly uneasily, looking as Lassiter as if he were a dangerous wild animal.
"Buzz!" Spencer greeted him with as much enthusiasm as he could possibly muster.
A pitiful amount.
Still looking slightly warily at Lassiter, Buzz knelt down next to Spencer. I'm sorry, but was Buzz some kind of nickname? Spencer looked at him calmly, his eyes too showing a different story behind the facade.
"How're you doing, Shawn?"
Shawn? As in... Shawn Spencer? As in that psychic guy? Looking at him now in slight shock, I wondered how on Earth I didn't recognise him.
Shawn coughed again. More garnet droplets. Buzz looked alarmed and raised a large, unsure hand, obviously wanting to rid him of the unwanted face paint around his lips. Shawn smiled. Genuinely smiled and reached up shakily to removed the hand from his face, but didn't let go.
"Doing that bad, huh?" Buzz stated light heartedly, still staring at Shawn's mouth in shock.
Ambulance had finally arrived.
"What can I say, Nabby?" Breathy chuckle, "Not my week."
Paramedics were running over, shooing various officers out of their way. I suddenly noticed the distinct lack of several patrol cars and the attacker. I'd been so immersed in this Shawn that I hadn't even noticed an arrest occur right in front of me.
Lassiter had laid him gently on the ground and stepped back to give the EMTs more room. Buzz attempted to do the same but Shawn's grip, a conscious action or otherwise, was unrelenting.
The medics muttered to each other quickly and urgently in a medical language I could neither hear, nor probably understand. Their backs blocked Shawn off completely until I could finally see him being rolled towards a new ambulance.
Buzz had finally been set free and was suddenly speaking rapidly into a patrol car radio worryingly close to my hiding place.
Lassiter had become Shawn's new permanent fixture.
My arm hurt.
I felt light headed all of a sudden and pitched forward into the shrub in front of me before my knees could find purchase on the dew slicked ground. Buzz's head jerked up like a meerkat.
Crap he'd heard me.
I didn't think I could stand.
Great.
Suddenly, he was pulling me up from behind by the scruff of my neck and span me roughly to face him. His generally gentle features were pulled up into complete rage.
He thought I was Shawn's shooter.
"It's not what you think," I choked against his grip, disoriented by the sudden change in height. His eyes suddenly softened and face slacked into a more natural expression, though he still looked a little tense. He stared at my shoulder in sudden realisation.
"You're the one who called Detective Lassiter!"
Grey was starting to appear in the corners of my vision as my head pounded like the stereos of one of the many night clubs I passed earlier tonight. Buzz was yelling something to one of the other officers and the next thing I knew I was sitting on a gurney next to Shawn's in the ambulance.
Lassiter turned to look at me and jerked his head in a sort of acknowledging nod before turning back to the younger man.
His presence was kind of terrifying for no particular reason.
Shawn Spencer on the other hand looked, if possible, worse under the harsh fluorescence of the ambulance's light. His breath was coming out in short, harsh clicks, fogging up the oxygen mask that had magically appeared, his back slightly arched and his eyes screwed shut.
What was with the lack of morphine?
Judging by the barely noticeable pink stain by his head, I was guessing a fairly recent head injury. Damn things.
He muttered something and Lassiter leant his head forward, "What was that?"
Spencer let the mask drop down around his chin, looking pleased with himself at the glare this provoked from Lassiter.
He was too faint for me to hear him, but he looked gleeful at the irritated noise that emitted from the Detective and the apparently well trained, resisted reflex to punch the man in such a state in front of him.
Spencer chuckled until the Detective shoved the mask back on his face, eliciting an irritated scowl.
A medic appeared by the head of his gurney, one by my own.
Lassiter was told to leave.
She said something that I was too wound up to really get my head around, but the small pinch and the warm, blessed darkness, spoke more than words ever could.
Ugh yeah. This felt insanely sickly but let me know what you think :)