Chapter 4: Therapy Sessions

Notes: Mild swearing.

Shawn got off his bike in his Dad's driveway. It was strange but Gus had to deliver some samples at a doctor's office at the late hour. Not wanting to both be late, they agreed to meet at Henry's. Shawn knocked on his dad's front door. No answer. Tonight was the night when they agreed to have dinner with that weird reporter, Gary something or other. "Dad, are you home?" Shawn called. He turned the knob and the front door opened easily. "That's weird," he said aloud and entered. He put his helmet on the kitchen counter and took off his jacket, tossing it on the couch. He noticed the sliding glass door in the back was open slightly. "Dad, you should really turn your hearing aid up," he quipped. It was just starting to get dark, making it difficult to see in the backyard. He stopped when he noticed the back porch light wasn't on. He flipped the switch on the wall by the door, nothing happened. Then he noticed a person sprawled out in the middle of the yard on their stomach. "Dad?" he asked and started toward the person quickly.

He crouched down next to his father, placing his hand on his dad's neck searching for a pulse. He found one. Was his father snoring? "Dad, wake up," he said jostling the older man. Suddenly, someone was grabbing him from behind. The assailant placed a cotton rag over his face and he could smell the chloroform. He kicked and pushed trying to extricate himself from the strong grip, but the more he struggled, the more of the chemical he breathed in. He felt his arms getting weaker and then he couldn't keep his eyes open. His limp body sagged in the attacker's arms. Gary let Shawn drop to the ground. Gary smiled. His little therapy experiment was going to be such fun. These two had some serious emotional issues to explore. If he couldn't help them, then he would have to take more drastic measures.

Shawn felt the sensation of movement. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he was in the backyard. He opened his eyes slowly and looked around. He was in some sort of a van or SUV. He moved his arm to try to sit up and found his wrists bound together behind him by those annoying plastic wrist ties. He sat himself up against the back of the passenger seat as the car stopped moving. He was about to turn to get a view of the driver when the same damn rag was over his nose and mouth again. He tried to resist, but it was useless due to his restraints. Blackness clouded his vision.

Again, Shawn opened his eyes slowly. He felt groggy. He was so going to punch whoever kept knocking him out. He tried to gauge his surroundings before opening his eyes. He was lying down and it was dark. All his limps were unbound. He moved to sit up and smacked his head hard. His eyes flew open and he quickly moved his hands around. "Oh no," was all he could utter at the horrible realization that he was locked in a coffin-like box. He could feel himself starting to panic. This was his worst nightmare, not being able to move, being trapped. It was like that awful day all over again, in the refrigerator. Forcing down those memories, he heard his father's voice was playing in his head, "Don't lose it. Take a look at your surroundings."

It was dark, but he felt a vent to his left. The inside of his prison was smooth and slick, but not cool like glass, probably Plexiglas. Suddenly, light flooded the small space. Shawn squeezed his eyes tight to block the glare. A somewhat familiar sounding voice spoke to him. "Welcome Shawn. I can call you Shawn, can't I?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" he answered.

"You're psychic. You tell me," the voice taunted.

"My powers don't really work so well under stress, asshole," Shawn said angrily.

"Is the name calling really necessary, Shawn? I want us to be friends. Trust one another. Share things."

"Okay, let me go first. Let me out of HERE," Shawn raged banging his fists madly against the box.

"Shawn, calm down. I know your father taught you better manners than that. But then again you really don't seem to appreciate him too much, do you?"

Shawn didn't say a word, trying to get his breathing back under control. "Now Shawn, let me explain where you are," the voice told him. "That tiny, little box you're in is inside another one. The outer box is attached to a vacuum, so if I choose to I can literally suck all the air out of it." Gary smiled when he heard Shawn's soft distressed whimper. The camera, speaker, and microphone were all working just as Gary envisioned. Gary was thrilled. No one would figure out where he was, and the decoy at his mother's house would throw them off.

"I hold all the cards, Shawn. I decide if you live or die. You, your Dad, and I are going to get to know one another. You two have such fascinating emotional issues that I want to explore. Your dad has some trust issues."

"What in the hell does that have to do with keeping me in this damn box, you sick freak?" Shawn yelled.

"Don't you see Shawn? I'm playing on your worst fears; being trapped, alone, and in a situation that is completely out of your control. It allows you to drop that silly mask you present to the world. I've been researching you, Shawn. Now I need to know all about you, so that I can understand your father." The voice explained sounding like this was the most logical thing in the world. Shawn felt his heart pounding in his ears. He was completely terrified. What kind of sick person was this? He suddenly was aware that there was a very good chance that he wasn't getting out of this alive. The voice said something about his dad.

"Your father's gruff exterior will fall away also. This situation will play on every father's worst fears, watching his son possibly die and not being able to do a thing about it. He's so out of touch with his emotions. It will surprise you how forthcoming people are when someone they love is in jeopardy, if he actually loves you," the voice said giddily. Shawn felt nauseous. This monster was seriously twisted.

"Why? Why are you doing this to us?" Shawn stuttered.

"I love watching people. You and your father are intriguing. You two obviously care about the other one, but don't want the other one to know. And frankly I'm sickened by your cavalier attitude when it comes to your dad. He's a great man and you don't appreciate him. I want to help you do that. And maybe help your father understand what he needs in a son. Let him decide if that's you, the real you. Listen this conservation is fantastic, but I have an appointment. I have to let your dad know the game plan."

Shawn closed his eyes. The panic was overwhelming him. He whispered, "Don't leave me here. Let me out." Gary heard Shawn whispering and smiled.

"Although, I do have to ask you: How much faith do you have in Gus and your friends in blue?"

"You leave Gus alone, you monster," Shawn said vehemently. "They're going to find you."

"Shawn, so protective, that's sweet. I don't think the police will be quite as effective without their resident psychic. But I may just clue them in to figure this thing out. Not right away mind you. Of course, if you keep this attitude up, it'll probably be too late for you, but at least they can say that they tried. Anyway, talk to you later Shawn," the light and fan shut off.

Shawn thought, "I know that voice. I know that voice." Then he yelled, "Gary, you freak. They're going to figure out it's you. They'll find you!" He felt his blood pressure rising and tried hard to calm down. The more he tried, the more scared he became. He started pounding at his prison in frustration and pure terror.

Henry heard someone calling his name and shaking him. "Mr. Spencer, are you all right?" Henry looked up to see Gus kneeling next to him.

"What happened?" Henry asked, disorientated. He sat up.

"I'm not sure. I just got here. No one answered the door, so I came back here to check to see where you two were," Gus said.

Henry looked confused and asked, "Where's Gary?"

"I don't know. I saw your truck and Shawn's motorcycle. We drove separately. I had a sample that a doctor asked me to deliver. It turns out the office was closed, when I got there." Gus answered.

"What? What time is it?" Henry said rubbing his aching head. He felt like he had a hangover and couldn't focus.

"It's about 8 p.m. I'm going to call for an ambulance."

"Don't do that. I'm fine. Gus, Gary was here. I think, I think he might have drugged me," he stopped and looked at Gus. Henry's face drained of all its color as he asked, "If Shawn's motorcycle is here, where is Shawn? Is he inside?" Henry struggled to stand up.

"Mr. Spencer, you should just stay put. I'll go look," Gus ran to the house. He opened the door and entered the house. Shawn's helmet was on the counter and jacket on the couch.

"Oh no," Gus said, a feeling of dread washing over him. "Shawn! Shawn!" he called as he ran through the house. He came back into the kitchen and Henry was sitting at the table.

"He's not here. But his jacket, his bike, and his helmet are," Gus said making eye contact with Henry.

"Call his phone," Henry said. Gus called Shawn's cell on his phone.

"Voice mail." Gus said. They both looked at each other.

"Damn it," Henry said, followed by Gus', "Something's wrong."

"I'm calling Lassiter and O'Hara. Shawn's missing," Gus said.

"And Gary's involved somehow," Henry said.