Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. I never have, and alas, I never will.

A/N: Thank you Olivia94. You have saved me once again from my run-on sentence addiction lol! You're the best!

Chapter 4: If Waiting is a game, then I don't want to play

Thirty minutes later they were rounding the bend, bright floodlights fixated on the group that were followed by shouts and rushing bodies. New men were taking the burden of carrying the stretcher, and hands were pulling the elder Spencer away from the head detective. Nonsensical medical jargon was being spouted left and right, while Juliet was in his face asking a million questions, and Chief Vick was coming toward him with a million of her own. Closing his eyes, Lassiter just let the events transpiring around him fade. He sat down with a thud against the bumper of the nearest patrol car, quickly waving in a shooing manner at his partner to get her out of his face.

The headache that had been building was now pounding away at his sanity, and he wished to God that everyone would just leave him alone.

He felt a gentle, but authoritative, squeeze on his shoulder and looked up into the chief's concerned, understanding gaze. "You can tell me about it later in your report detective. Go home, wash up, and get some rest." Responding with a nod he stood, quietly brushing past his partner as he went, and headed for his Crown Vic. Getting in, he sat down with a sigh. He looked out the window in time to see the elder Spencer being helped into the back of his son's bus, closing the door's behind him. "Ah hell" he muttered, starting his car. He flashed his lights at his partner who quickly ran up to the side and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Yes Carlton?" Juliet inquired. Without a word he watched the ambulance roar to life. He breathed in deeply, turned on his siren, threw the gear into drive, and stomped down hard on the gas. "Carlton!" his partner hissed as she was thrown back against the seat. But he said nothing, just smirked.

As the ambulance raced towards the hospital, so did they.

PSYCHPSYCHPSYCH PSYCHPSYCHPSYCH

Lassiter was sitting quietly in the waiting room with his partner, who was now entertaining a frantic Gus who had arrived a few minutes earlier. The two were pacing and talking, and from his position he could have sworn he saw all the color drain from the younger man's features once or twice in that short amount of time. Juliet was obviously bringing Guster up to speed on the night's events; he had been blissfully unaware while he was on a date with his phone deliberately turned off. He had wanted to ignore any attempts Shawn might make to gull him into leaving early. It wasn't until he returned to his apartment and listened to his voice mail that he had even known anything had gone awry. He hadn't even heard about the sixth murder yet.

Getting up, the detective made his way quietly down the hall—the room's two other inhabitants not even noticing his exit. When Lassiter reached the nurses' station he asked for an update just as he had an hour before. He was shot down like he had been all the other times, but a fellow had to try. Nodding in frustration, he began to walk away until a hand patted his shoulder.

"Let's go get some coffee while we wait, Detective."

Carlton turned sharply to look at Mr. Spencer who stood there clad in blue scrubs with his left arm in a sling, wearing a haggard expression on his face.

"Henry, what are you doing out here?"

"I'm not dying Carlton; they released me."

He eyed the man skeptically before nodding "You ok though?"

"I've had worse when I was on the force."

The response was so cryptic Lassiter assumed that was all to be said—that is, until Henry continued. "Pulled some muscles here and there, tore one in my shoulder. Scratches and bruises out the wazoo. A few stitches, some happy pills and half an hour under a heating blanket and I'm fine."

The younger man snorted "Yeah you look it." He said sarcastically. "What you need is some rest."

"At least I've had a shower and was able to change. You look like an extra from Swamp Thing." Carlton couldn't argue, so he just grunted in agreement.

"Besides, I'm not doing anything until one of these yahoos quits giving me the run around and tells me how my son is." Looking over at the young detective Henry eyed him suspiciously. "Speaking of rest, why are you here and not at home, washing the night off you?"

"I had a few loose ends to tie up." He sputtered, quickly beginning his trek over to the coffee machine.

"I was on the force. I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were Henry."

"I can read emotions in peoples' eyes too you know. You're worried about my kid."

Lassiter paused momentarily, looking absolutely scandalized. "I am not!"

Henry smiled and passed the younger man to get his coffee first. "Whatever you say detective."

"God I've said it before, but you two are exactly the same!" He hissed.

Henry smirked but otherwise ignored the comment. Lassiter, on the other hand, was still defending himself.

"He is a colleague—an unwanted one sure, but—"

"Carlton" the older man interrupted.

"Yes, Mr. Spencer?"

"Thanks."

The younger man looked confused a moment, but caught on quickly. "It's my job."

"You helped to get Shawn back here for treatment, so I still say thanks. And about the jaw…I'm sorry."

Lassiter had all most forgotten about getting decked by the older man.

"You thought you had just lost your son. You were trying to save him, and we were holding you back."

"Still. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

"What for?" Henry asked incredulously.

"For giving up after the rope was cut, for just assuming Spencer was dead, for not following after."

"You still came."

"Only because McNabb saw the flare you shot off."

"Remind me to thank Officer McNabb later then."

Carlton nodded and looked towards the doctor who was coming towards them. 'Thank God' he thought—this conversation was beyond awkward. Was he having a moment with Spencer's dad? A slight shiver went down his spine, and the detective could tell the other man was also relieved for the interruption.

"Mr. Spencer, I just got back from checking up on your son—like I said I would. He's under the care of Dr. Cliffton, who will be up to tell you more once he's free."

"How's Shawn?"

"He took a pretty hefty blow to the head, giving him a grade two concussion. There's a hairline stress fracture in his right wrist which, according to the account that you gave us on the incident, was presumed to have been caused when you where fighting to pull him out of the water."

Henry gave a nod of understanding and motioned for the man to continue.

"Your son had multiple contusions and lacerations caused by other floating debris and rocks. His wounds have been cleaned and he was given a tetanus shot just in case—just as you were. The worst was caused by the rope that was tied around his waist—the force must have been unbelievably fierce to cause it to cut through his clothing the way it did. They had to actually remove some pieces that had embedded themselves in his abdomen. It took a lot of stitches and he'll have some visible scarring in places, but it will heal, as will the two fractures he has to the second and third ribs."

"Did I cause those?" Henry interrupted quietly, and Lassiter looked over at the other man, shocked.

"No, Mr. Spencer. From your account of the CPR and the location of the bruising, the fractures were caused by some other source when he was still submerged in the river."

"CPR?" The detective inquired.

"He wasn't breathing when I pulled him out." Henry muttered, looking away from the detective and back at the doctor. "He was ice cold when they brought him in."

Nodding the Doctor agreed. "He was already suffering from hypothermia. You got him to us in time, but he's going to be in ICU a while until Dr. Cliffton is satisfied that his body is able to sustain its temperature on its own. Your son's body was already starting to shut down by the time he arrived. His breathing was shallow and they had to put him on a respirator along with giving him intravenous heated saline. Your son is still struggling, but everything we can see indicates that he'll be able to recover from this—as long as no complications arise. We'll watch him over the rest of the night and maybe we can remove the respirator sometime tomorrow. Where we go from there we'll have to see."

"Can I see him?"

"I can allow you to see him for a few minutes, but only you."

Henry looked back a Lassiter and the younger man motioned for him to leave "Go see your kid Spencer. I'll go tell O'Hara and Guster the news, and then I'm going home to clean up and sleep."

"You'll be by tomorrow?"

"Sure…just…don't tell your spawn I came."

Henry smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it; your secret's safe with me."

"I don't have a secret!" Carlton threw back as he quickly continued his escape towards the waiting room. With a brief smirk Henry turned toward the ICU to go find his son.