Frozen; similar to water in the winter when harshly exposed to the cold air. Shawn Spencer was frozen. He was trapped in his oh-so-brilliant mind. His memory replaying what information he had just revealed. Shawn forgot where he was and remembered where he had been. His soul trembling and his mind unforgiving, he didn't know why this had to happen to him. The clique question, but it meant so much. Asked so much. He couldn't go on with this any more. Wasn't that why he'd left Santa Barbra in the first place?
"Spencer?" Carlton called out, unsure if the physic was playing a sick joke or not. From the looks of it, he wasn't. Shawn sat there, eyes staring ahead. His face contorted into a look of pain and woe.
"Shawn?" He tried again with no such luck. The younger male was comatose. Carlton thought about what he should do, but, frankly, he had never been in this situation before. The comforting part of being a detective was O'Hara's side of the job. Looking around, he figured no one would come barging in, so he quickly left Shawn in search of Guster.
"Guster!" He called to the darker man, who looked as if he was looking for Shawn. Gus turned and, seeing Lassiter, started to him.
"Lassiter, where is Shawn?!" He asked. Carlton pointed to the room he left Shawn in.
"Guster, he's uhh frozen." Lassiter explained. Gus's eyes widened in worry, and he uncharacteristically shoved passed the nervous detective. Lassiter followed closely behind.
"Shawn? Can you hear me? It's Gus. You need to come out of your head, now." Gus spoke to him calmly. Carlton watched.
"Has he done this before?" Lassiter wondered. Gus took a minute to give him a glance of acknowledgment before whipping out his phone.
"Yeah, but that was a long time ago." Gus mumbled, dialing a number.
"oh" Lassiter responded dumbly. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't good with this type of thing.
"Mr. Spencer, it's me. Shawn's having an episode….no….at the station….Lassiter," Lassiter winced at hearing his name, "Okay, thank you." Gus spoke into the phone. He brought the device away from his ear.
"Henry on his way?" Lassiter asked, hoping the answer would be no.
"Yeah, luckily he was running some errands, so he is not that far away." They fell into a silence, welcomed by both men. Carlton stared at his feet while Gus kept an eye on Shawn. Then, Gus's gaze turned to the taller man.
"What were the two of you talking about?" He interrogated. Carlton's hands started to sweat. He shakily wiped them on his pants.
"We were talking about what happened when he was 15." He announced with more confidence than he really had. Gus down-right glared at him. Gus, the silly friend of Shawn Spencer, glared at him.
"You are a real jerk, Lassiter! Do you even realize how hard that was for him!? How hard it was to get him back on his feet?" Gus spat angrily. Gus somehow knew this would end badly, but Shawn hadn't had an episode in so long. With Gus's words hanging in the stale air, they fell into another silence. Gus constantly checking his phone for the time, Carlton left him be. Gus seemed to calm himself after a few moments.
"Gus!" Lassiter flinched at the sound of Henry Spencer's voice. Gus, however, hopped right up and called him into the now cramped room. Gus moved to the side so Henry could take his place. The older Spencer knelt down to his son's level to make eye contact.
"Shawn, you need to pay attention now," The older Spencer started, "You are in the police file room. You are not anywhere but there." He murmured to his son. Shawn seemed to breathe a long breath. He blinked. Then he went still once more.
"Come on, Shawn, we're right here. We're waiting for you." Henry told him gently. Carlton couldn't remember a time when Henry was so gentle. It unnerved him to think that Henry had to be this gentle with Shawn.
"Is he going to be okay?" Lassiter inquired, noting the strong hold this strange behavior had on Shawn. Henry didn't pay him any mind, instead focusing all his attention on Shawn. Gus, however, turned to him and took a breath. A quick glance from Henry, Gus began to speak.
"Shawn had these…episodes since he was uh attacked. He doesn't know when they happen or how, but we do know it's because of his way of remember what happened that night. I suppose you could say this is his form of PTS." Gus explained, glancing briefly at his best friend. Shawn continued to stare forward, although his eyes were less glassy. Lassiter stood there absolutely still and quiet as if mimicking Shawn's condition would snap the psychic out of his trance.
Shawn was pushed against the wall roughly. He clawed at the hands that were exploring more than he felt comfortable with. His breathing came in gasps, but he couldn't escape. What would his father think? All this training and he still wasn't good enough. His back hit the floor. He pushed himself into a corner…why did he do that? His hands were roughly yanked away. His dazed mind registered that they were being tied together. He struggled, but the rope cut his wrists from the pulling. He heard laughing. A deep chuckle vibrated through the small room, filling Shawn with absolute, soul-crushing dread. His eyes watered with unshed tears.
"You know, you had this coming," Paul taunted him, stepping closer, "Spencer…Shawn." Shawn blinked. That didn't sound like Paul. No, it sounded like an older, more uptight male. He couldn't focus on that know, though.
"What do you want from me?" Shawn whispered. Paul came closer.
"No, Shawn, this is about what you want. What you wanted all this time, you little whore. You want it don't you? You would beg for it, wouldn't you?" Paul growled to him. Shawn was confused. It? What was it?
"Shawn? Can you hear me? It's Gus. You need to come out of your head, now." Wait. Was that Gus? No, Gus wasn't here. He…oh….he had to go to Gus's house tonight to study. Paul's dirty hands snapped him out of his thoughts by gently stroking Shawn's face. His body flinched backwards.
"Don't tough me!" He shrieked. Paul chuckled once again, the sound giving Shawn goose bumps.
"You're mine. I always knew you were." He snarled. He felt hands at his belt. Oh god, please! No! Shawn thought desperately.
"Shawn, you need to pay attention now. You are in the police file room. You are not anywhere but there." Shawn gave a cry. That was his father's voice, but where did it come from? What did he mean? His breathing picked up as air tickled his exposed skin. He forced himself to become calm again. A deep breath, he told himself.
"Come on, Shawn, we're right here. We're waiting for you." Henry's voice came again. Waiting for me? For me to do what? Shawn wondered. He heard his pants thump to the ground. He closed his eyes. I'm not here. I'm not here. I'm NOT HERE!
Shawn's lips began moving in a silent chant. He seemed to be saying the same thing over and over. Before Carlton could point it out, Henry noticed as well.
"Come, on Shawny. I'm right here! Open your eyes!" Henry insisted. He reached out and gently cupped his son's hands in his own. Shawn's mantra became clear.
"I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here." His voice growing in volume every time he spoke the three words. In a moment, Shawn's eyes flashed open, frantic and wide. He began to struggle, giving a terrified shout. Henry gingerly held tight while whispering soothing nonsense into Shawn's ears.
"D-dad?" Shawn whispered alarmed.
"Its okay, Shawny. I've got you." Henry replied, rubbing circled into his son's back and rocking him slightly. Shawn's hands gripped his father's shirt tightly, eyes closed. Lassiter looked at the scene before him. Shawn was such a good actor, but, sometimes, even he can't pretend he is okay.
