AN: Sorry I already broke my promise of every two days orz, there was a school trip and I was really tired. Also, thanks to the second person who followed this story! I know this chapter jumps around a lot, I hope it still makes sense. I might rework it. Do you like the part with Gus? I know we haven't seen him much. I'll probably go back and rewrite this story when I'm finished. Also, warning for this chapter: there is unwanted touching in this chapter. It is not of a sexual nature but I'm putting a warning just to be safe.
I have a question too: would you guys like it if I made this story M or do you want me to keep it T? It will determine the course I take with the rest of this story, so please let me hear your opinion!
Prentiss stayed in the room. Reid had half expected Henry to go running out of the hospital room once they explained, guns blazing, but instead he slowly sank into a chair, staring at his son. Morgan continued to apologize to Reid every few minutes, despite Reid trying to get him to stop. The three agents were now bouncing around a profile, glancing over at Shawn periodically to make sure he stayed asleep. Henry was clearly listening, but didn't say anything. In fact he looked like he might be sick.
Detective Lassiter woke up about an hour after Morgan did, disoriented and dizzy. Prentiss and Reid once more launched into an explanation of the situation, and guilt flashed over the detective's face. He glanced at the sleeping charge, asking rapid-fire questions about the case as his face hardened again, ready to contribute what he could.
"He thinks this SOB is poisoning Guster?" He didn't wait for confirmation, his brow furrowing in deep thought. Something didn't fit. "Spencer is in his thirties. Why would this guy go for people in their twenties?" Morgan tilted his head at that, thinking.
"Maybe he thought if they were younger they would be more attractive to him." Mentally, Reid put together a timeline.
"The oldest victim was the third, right, the last female? Maybe he's going through a pattern."
"So, starting with younger females because he thinks they'll be appealing, working up the ages, realizing they don't satisfy him and doing the same thing with males?" Prentiss tried to clarify.
"That's a strange and specific MO," Lassiter mumbled, still thinking. He didn't want to admit he was worried. He didn't want to admit that he cared.
"None of this makes sense," Henry said weakly. They all looked over at his slack face before quickly looking away again. "It doesn't make sense."
"You've got that right," Morgan muttered.
When the dark-skinned man burst through the door Prentiss already had her gun trained on him, Reid reaching painfully for his own on the table next to him. Lassiter and Morgan started awake, both unconsciously reaching for their own guns before remembering they didn't have them. Shawn, mercifully, stayed asleep, doped up with sedatives after him and Henry went at each other and Emily forced the father out of the room to eat and change.
The man had a wild look in his eye, two nurses rushing in after him, grabbing his arms and shoulders and trying to calm him down and drag him out of the room to be treated himself. There was an oozing cut above his eye and his left arm was bruised heavily - it looked like he had been in some sort of accident. He shoved them off, snarling, and brandished the bent golf club he carried threateningly, although his hands were shaking.
He didn't seem to notice Prentiss, or the others. His eyes were glazed and distant - a fever, Reid thought tentatively - and the nurses retreated as Prentiss waved her hand at them, hovering just outside the doorway. He slowly let the bent club he held drop, clattering on the floor, and momentarily Reid believed the man was looking at him before he realized he was looking past him, at the bed on the other side of the room. Shawn. The man sunk to his knees, seeming dazed and slightly confused, anchoring himself with the sight of the other man.
Prentiss caught Reid's eye and nodded, holstering her gun as Reid kept his trained on the man, despite the pain it caused. Wary but concerned, she crept forward, crouching in front of him. "Hey," she said softly, not wanting to startle him. He didn't answer. "Do you know where you are?" she tried.
"Hospital," the man breathed, not taking his eyes off Shawn. "He said he was in the hospital, he said so I came and here I am, in the hospital." Emily nodded as the man's face screwed up, like he was about to cry. "Goddamnit Shawn." A sob tumbled off his lips and he buried his face in his hands, shaking. "What the hell is going on?!"
"Guster," Lassiter called, his voice rough. Reid glanced over at him. This was Gus? "Guster- Gus, calm down." Gus looked up, following the sound of Lassiter's voice.
"Detective?" His voice was small and shook, and Prentiss could see his injuries were taking a toll. "D-Detective- What's happening? I don't understand."
"Guster, I'll tell you, but you need to tell me what happened to you first." Reid dropped his gun, carefully putting it back on the table, as Prentiss grabbed Gus' arm. He let himself be pulled up, swaying as he stood, and led to the chair recently vacated by Henry. His eyes didn't leave his unconscious friend.
"There was a guy," was the first thing that came from Gus, but he blinked and realized he needed to be specific. "Um. He wasn't- wasn't very imposing. Maybe 5'10", 5'11", with- with really-" He shuddered, breaking off for a moment, and Emily urged him to breathe. Morgan was on his cell phone, talking quietly. "His eyes. They're terrifying. I couldn't tell you a color but- They were s-so- so hateful, and angry, and crazy, the SOB. Skinny, with dark hair. Real unassuming, s-someone that blends into the background, you know?" He looked up at Lassiter, desperate for him to understand. The detective nodded, urging him to continue.
"I answered the door, because I f-figured he was just selling something." He chuckled anxiously. "And damn, looks are deceiving, because he forced his way into my house and started beating me, yelling things I didn't understand." He sped up, his words tumbling over one another as Prentiss tried to calm him. "So I g-grabbed that stupid golf club Shawn left in my house and fought back, and then he fell and I ran outside and I didn't have my keys, so I started running for the shopping center so I could call someone, and the guy- the b-bastard ran me down with his car!" Another sob escaped, unwanted, and Gus was staring at Shawn again, his shoulders shaking. "I was scared, so I played dead," he whispered. "Made it seem like I was more hurt than I was. I was afraid he would run over me if I didn't. And the guy got out of his car, and he called me a thief, and I wanted to ask him what I'd stolen but I didn't because I didn't want to make him angry. And he said... He said 'Shawn is mine now. Once he gets out of the hospital, he's mine.' And then he just... just left. He must've thought he left me for dead. And I got up and I've been searching the hospitals and here, Shawn's here, why is he in the h-hospital, why is he hurt, did that man do it?" Tears began to fall now and he dashed them away, embarrassed, fruitlessly. He couldn't seem to make them stop now that the adrenaline had worn off. He looked up at Lassiter.
"Would you be able to identify this man?" Gus shuddered, looking at Morgan, meeting his eyes.
"Anywhere," he whispered. "I'll never forget his face."
"You'd never seen him before?" He looked at Reid now, and Reid knew Gus was failing. He needed treatment and sleep.
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Not once in my entire life. I don't know where he came from. I don't understand. Why's Shawn hurt?" The agents glanced at each other.
"We believe he's being stalked and pursued by the recent serial killer," Prentiss said softly, trying to keep her voice calm. Gus glanced at her, then down at his friend, before nodding and starting to chuckle, bursting into all out laughter.
"Of course," he cried. "Of course!" And then he fainted.
Spencer was awake.
He was staring at the nurse who had just entered the room, right after rushing feet could be heard down the hall and the alarm of a code blue blaring. He knew it was time for Shawn's pain medication, the one that made him so drowsy. But he also knew that this nurse had not administered the medication. He had never seen his nurse before.
The nurse was simply standing over the psychic's bed, stroking the man's face, whispering softly. And Spencer watched, afraid to call out, because he could tell the look of a gun hidden under clothes any day, and he was afraid the man would hurt Shawn.
"I can see you watching," the man's soft voice giggled before he looked over his shoulder at Spencer. Reid could feel the blood drain away from his face as he met cold eyes, the whites glowing in the dim light of the room. "That's okay," he whispered, turning back to Shawn. Then he shuddered slightly. "I think I'd like you to watch." Spencer's eyes widened, horror filling him, his mind running through scenarios but not finding a satisfactory one. He glanced at the other two charges of the room, both sleeping, as the man went around the other side of Shawn's bed, giving Spencer a clear view.
"Yes," the man said, almost to himself, glancing at Spencer again. "The thief can watch what he stole be stolen back." He leaned down, continuing his fairly innocent ministrations until Shawn's eyes began to flutter open. Then he grabbed the psychic's hand, bringing it up. In horror Spencer though the man would made Shawn touch him, but instead he brought the hand to his hidden gun. Shawn's eyes shot open and his breath hitched, staring up into the man's eyes.
"Hey dude," Shawn chuckled softly, his eyes shooting nervously around the room, resting on Spencer for a second. "I like foreplay as much as the next guy, but gun kinks aren't my thing." The waver in his voice gave away his fear and exhaustion. The man hummed.
"Me neither," he mumbled as he leaned down and kissed Shawn's jaw. Shawn visibly paled, wincing away from the touch, meeting Spencer's eyes with horror. "But I don't want you fighting me," he sang, giggling madly. He was staring intently at Shawn, and Shawn was trying his damnedest to not look back. "God," the man breathed. "You're even more beautiful up close." Shawn didn't answer, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed, alternating between staring carefully at the wall or meeting Spencer's eyes. Both of them were too drugged up and weak to do anything to protect themselves or each other. It was hopeless.
The man sighed, pouting. "I can't take you home yet," he mumbled. "But don't worry, I have everything ready for when you're better." He purred, running a hand through Shawn's hair, and it took the psychic everything he had not to shudder. "I just couldn't wait that long to touch you, not after what those fucking thieves did." His face turned to a mask of rage before shifting back to calm just as quickly. "I knew you couldn't wait for me either," he whispered as he trailed a hand down Shawn's arm. The psychic bit his lip and closed his eyes, and Spencer started to shake with fear and anger. He was an FBI agent, and this was happening right in front of his face. And he couldn't do a single thing about it.
"I can't wait," Shawn said suddenly. "But we have to." Spencer looked at him, seeing the desperation as he met the unsub's eyes for the first time. "I don't want to get injured more and stay here longer than I have to. And I know that the more we wait, the more satisfying it will finally be." The unsub tilted his head in thought before breaking into a grin.
"You're right, Shawn." He beamed. "You always are." He leaned down again, his face close to Shawn's, and Spencer knew it took all the psychic had not to turn away. "I'll see you soon, then," the unsub said before kissing Shawn deeply. Even from across the room Spencer could see as the shock registered on Shawn's face, his hands twitching to push the man away. But it was unnecessary, as the next moment the unsub was out the door, and Shawn was left still and shocked.
Spencer quickly climbed out of bed, grabbing his cell phone before going over to the other man. "Shawn?" The psychic looked up at him, and even in the dim light Spencer could see what swirled in his eyes - fear. Nothing was said for a moment, and then Spencer heard the whisper.
"He's going to come back."
