Shawn faded in and out for a very long time, only peripherally aware of his situation. All he knew for sure was that it hurt to stay awake. It hurt a lot, so he didn't bother to fight the overwhelming fatigue.
After several restless hours he finally jerked back into full awareness and gasped as the sudden movement jolted his injured ribs. Where am I? He shivered, trying to recall what had happened as he pulled his knees as far into his chest as he could. Oh god, it's so cold…
Slowly his mind cleared. Shawn couldn't stifle a whimper as all the painful memories came flooding back. I'm completely alone. They're not going to get to me in time. I'm going to die here and no one will ever find my body. Shawn felt himself beginning to lose it, beginning to panic. Get a grip, he commanded inwardly, with as much stubbornness as he could muster. They'll find you.
Please, Dad. Gus, come on. Jules, Lassie, someone. Please. Please help me. Don't leave me here to die.
Gus watched solemnly as Henry paced the length of Chief Vick's office. The older man's limited patience had waned steadily over the past hours, and it was nearly gone completely.
"It's been well over a day since Shawn went missing! We're running out of time." Henry's tone was one of frustration, but as a fellow parent, Karen Vick could see the underlying worry in her friend's voice. She could not even begin to imagine how he felt, how she would feel if her own child suddenly disappeared.
"I know," she soothed quietly, careful to school her expression. "But we've got a couple of decent leads." A thorough search of Shawn's apartment had turned up another handwritten note, which ominously read IT'S TIME FOR PAYBACK. The lab had been able to pull a partial thumbprint off that one. "We're running the print through all the databases, and Lassiter and O'Hara are following up on an eyewitness report. We'll find him, Henry. We're doing everything we can." She paused. "You should go home, get some rest. I'll call you if anything comes up. You too, Mr. Guster."
At the stubborn looks on the weary faces before her, Chief Vick insisted. "You've been here for almost 30 hours, and it's getting late. Go home. Both of you. Take a shower, grab a nap. I'll call immediately if we get any sort of break."
"Anything, no matter how small," Henry said flatly.
She nodded. "I promise."
Henry rubbed his eyes and grudgingly admitted, "I could use a shower. Come on, Gus, I'll drop you at your car." On the way out the door, with Gus following silently, Henry turned to face his former partner. "I'll be back in one hour."
Karen Vick sighed, and watched the elder Spencer's retreating back as he and Guster headed for the parking lot.
Shawn shivered relentlessly, curled up on the rough concrete floor. His dark prison was far too chilly to be comfortable even if he had been fully clothed, and he could only assume that it was part of his captor's obvious plan to keep Shawn as miserable as possible. And it's working. What could I possibly have done to this guy? He said I deserved this.
His musings were interrupted as his chest constricted and his throat suddenly spasmed. Shawn began coughing harshly, an incredibly painful experience with his mouth taped shut. Not to mention the agony it caused to his bruised, aching ribs. Oh god. No one deserves this. Not even me.
Once he caught his breath, Shawn rolled laboriously to his other side, hoping to lessen the pressure on his damaged rib cage. It didn't help, and by the time he was finished every single muscle in his entire body was screaming for mercy. I can't do this much longer. I can't. The darkness was all-encompassing, and with each passing minute Shawn found it more difficult to hold his panic in check.
He struggled to take deep, even breaths, but his chest burned with white-hot fire every time he inhaled. Long past the point of trying to figure out who had kidnapped him, Shawn could only focus on trying to remain calm. Breathe in, breathe out. He had no idea how much time had passed since that first drug-soaked rag had covered his nose and mouth. Seems like forever. Shawn had been trying to ignore the increasingly persistent call of nature for quite a while, and from his dry mouth and pounding headache, he knew he was dehydrated. And god, the hunger. He was so ravenous that he felt physically ill. Don't think about that. Just breathe.
Shawn continued his careful breathing, although it was starting to become a herculean effort. You can do this. They're coming. But in the back of his mind, he knew that the longer he was missing, the harder it would be for the police - and his father - to follow the trail. Hurry up. Please. Come on. Please. Breathe in, breathe out. Shawn just focused on the mental words and as before, was completely unprepared for the rough hand that grabbed him, this time by the back of the neck.
After Henry Spencer dropped him off Gus sat in his car for a long time, just staring at the front of his best friend's apartment. Come on, Shawn. Hang in there, buddy. We'll find you, I promise. Please just hang in there.
Gus had never felt so helpless. Shawn would have figured it out by now. He would have looked around the apartment for thirty seconds then done that dumb head-tilt thing and that would be it. Gus slammed the steering wheel with his hand. Damn! If I were the one who got kidnapped I would have been home in my own bed by now!
Overwhelmed by guilt that he was letting Shawn down, Gus made a decision and approached the front door. Looking over his shoulder nervously, Gus used his key to break the seal on the crime scene tape before unlocking the bolt.
Maybe there's something else here, something the cops missed. I'll just look one more time. I have to, for Shawn. His determination renewed, Gus slipped silently into the apartment.
Shawn had only a brief instant to react as the heavy bag was again pulled from his face, and he simply didn't have any fight left. Too exhausted to try yelling, in too much pain to struggle, he just went lax in his captor's solid grip. What difference does it make at this point anyway, Shawn wondered as he awaited the inevitable.
Sure enough, within seconds his nose was again covered in a drug-soaked rag. Only this time, Shawn openly welcomed the swift descent into oblivion.
Henry drove to his house as if on auto-pilot. He only vaguely noticed his surroundings, was only somewhat aware of the other cars on the semi-deserted roads. He could think only of Shawn. Too late. We're too late. I'm too late. I'm going to lose my son. And the last time I saw him, I snapped at him to grow up. Henry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to forestall a raging tension headache. I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm just so damn sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't a better father. I'm sorry I didn't tell you exactly how much I love you.
After a few moments, Henry turned on the radio in an attempt to clear his guilt-ridden mind. He forced himself to listen as the DJ prattled on about the unseasonably cold weather Santa Barbara was having, about how temperatures were expected to dip into the mid-40s by midnight.
Henry realized that he hadn't a clue as to the time, and glanced over at the clock in the truck's dashboard. 10 p.m. Shawn's been missing for at least 36 hours. Longer than that, Henry mused, remembering how his gut had twisted as he had first headed out to fish. God, I should have listened then. Maybe we'd have found him by now.
The ex-cop was still deep in thought as he turned the corner into the alley behind his house. He almost didn't notice what lay in the driveway until it was too late.
"Oh god," Henry said aloud as he threw the old truck into park and scrambled for the door handle. "Shawn!"
