A/N: Ok, so I'm a total freak and hadn't seen the summer finale until this past week. May I just state that it was made of awesome? By raise of hand, who else loved it? *counts hands* Just as I thought. Practically unanimous. I cannot stop watching this (www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=l89F9HQOGJ0&feature=related) video over and over again, and I simply HAD to buy the song that played in the background. (It's Wild Horses by The Sundays, if anyone wants to know, and is also on the BTVS soundtrack, but that's neither here nor there.) That was such a well done scene. Absolutely superb acting by both James Roday and Maggie Lawson (though I'm sure it may help that they're dating in RL), and the lighting and framing (a couple of things that I've been paying a lot more attention to with my film class) were incredible. It was probably one of the most moving scenes in any show I've ever seen, totally bittersweet. I actually cried.

On a semi-related note, I've had a few people ask if I'm going to make this fic Shules. The answer is no. I do think they have incredible chemistry, and I do favor them as a pairing, but I generally like to stick to canon for my ship-writing, and I see this story taking place sometime season 2-ish. So while I will definitely include some of their back and forth and maybe a little bit of UST, they will not be ending up in each others' arms at any point. At least not in that way. So, for any of you who may have been hoping for that, I hate to burst your bubble, really, but I also didn't want you to get your hopes up for something that isn't going to be happening in this fic. Of course you are certainly free to imagine whatever you like happening afterward, or even write your vision of it. That's what fanfiction is for, right? :D

And now, for the main attraction. (At least, I hope this is what you guys are reading for. It would be a little weird for people to read just for the author's notes. I mean, I know you guys love me almost as much as I love you all, but still. Weird.) On to the chapter!

Chapter 4: Vacuums Aren't the Only Things that Suck

Shawn woke up in a cold sweat, panting as if he'd just run a mile.

What the bizarre nightmare?

It had started out like the recurring dream he'd had as a kid about getting trapped in a cave, but had then morphed into something entirely new and eerily suggestive of his current predicament, or at least how his subconscious mind seemed to be interpreting it.

He hadn't thought about that childhood bête noire for years. At one point after hearing his father's story and his consequent nightmares, his fear of being buried alive had been almost as bad as his 'distaste' of pointy things. And now that he'd actually experienced it, he was coming around to the belief that it could actually be worse.

He shuddered, shaking off the last remnants of the dream. As his pounding heart began to slow its pace, Shawn became aware that the sounds from his dream seemed to still be playing, somewhere beyond the background of his mind.

Almost not daring to hope, he concentrated and listened carefully. Could it be?

It was.

The sound, faint but distinct, was almost certainly that of heavy-duty machinery working above.

This realization was such a relief that Shawn laughed aloud—for approximately half a second.

He involuntarily drew in a sharp breath at the pain that ripped through his chest at that action, and then let out a slight whimper (Not a whimper, he amended to himself. A manly groan.) as even that breath caused the pain to flare again. He held his breath, willing the burning in his ribs to subside, but now his lungs felt like they were on fire and he desperately wanted to take a deep breath. Somehow though, he knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to try. He evidently had at least a few cracked or possibly broken ribs, and they were not above expressing their displeasure at his attempts to use them normally. So instead, taking into account what had happened the last time he let anxiety get the better of him, he forced himself to breathe very slowly and deliberately. He knew that this would help keep his movement, and thus, the pain, to a minimum.

Once the pain was manageable, and he was again able to take in air in a fairly regular, if a bit shallow, fashion, Shawn relaxed somewhat. Despite the less than pleasant awakening, he was still immensely cheered knowing that his friends were out there working on getting him out. All he had to do was sit tight. Not that that would be an issue. Well, normally it might, but after all, it wasn't as if he could really do anything else right now. In fact, the biggest problem he had at the moment was how to entertain himself until then.

Ok, maybe not the biggest problem. From the constant ringing in his ears that he knew had nothing to do with the machines above, to the now familiar pounding in his head and the spacey sort of feeling that he might pass out again any moment, he was pretty sure he had a moderate concussion. Also, he didn't have to be psychic to know that he was certainly black-and-blue all over. In fact, the one place that didn't hurt was his left arm and that was because it had long since fallen asleep beneath him—'pins and needles' did not come close to describing what he knew that was going to feel like once he could move it again.

And then there was the crushing weight of the beam on his chest. Besides his ribs that protested with each breath, Shawn idly thought that it felt like one of the rhinoceroses must have stopped dancing on his skull long enough to sit on his chest and take a breather. Now, that was a really ironic thought, considering it was what was keeping him from breathing, at least in a complete and satisfactory manner.

What rhinoceros? What the hell are you talking about? a voice in his head asked. You're losing it, kid.

Come on, dad, Shawn argued back. You must have missed my earlier thoughts on rhinos that this was clearly—and cleverly—a reference back to. Now, it's not my fault if you come late to the party. Obviously you're going to miss things. You can't blame me for that.

Focus, Shawn, his dad's voice warned. You're never going to get out of here if you don't.

Ok Dad, I really don't appreciate your negativity right now— Shawn stopped. What am I doing? I'm arguing in my head with someone who isn't even here.

Did you ever think that maybe I'm your conscience?

Impossible. First of all, my conscience would sound a lot more like Gus, or possibly Jiminy Cricket. And—Shawn broke off as the noise from outside suddenly went up several levels, bringing about a corresponding increase in the pain in his head.

What's second of all?

With some difficulty, Shawn pulled his attention back to the situation. What?

You said 'first of all'. That means you must have a second of all.

Shawn tried to roll his eyes and then stopped as he realized that hurt too. No, it doesn't.

Sure it does. What's the other thing, Shawn?

Look, I don't have another thing, ok, so just—

You can't remember, can you? You had something else and you forgot. You know that's not a good sign, Shawn. What have I taught you?

Shawn groaned, wishing he could reach up and rub his aching head. Shut up.

Shawn—

Seriously, dad. Do you have nothing better to do than torment me? I get it, ok? I'm a screw-up and a disappointment and everything is my fault. I've heard it a million times and I do not need to hear it again right now. Just shut up.

Shawn, you know you're going to regret not listening to me.

Well then, let me regret it in peace, at least.

Fine. It's your head.

And with that, the voice was gone.

"He's right, though," Shawn muttered. "I really must be losing it. Why else would I be hearing Henry, of all people? I'd much rather hear Jules in my head at a time like this. She'd be all," Here he affected a falsetto tone. "'Oh, Shawn, you poor thing, all injured and strangely sexy like this. Let Juliet make it all better. Want some pineapple?'" Now he adopted a suave, radio-like, slightly raspy version of his own voice. "'Why, Juliet, you adorable creature, of course I will have some pineapple. You know I never turn it down.' 'Oh, Shawn, you're so devilishly attractive. Especially your hair. Can I touch it? Please?' 'But of course. There's no one I would rather have run their fingers through this luscious mane. Except perhaps Kelly LeBrock or a young Demi Moore.'"

Imaginary Juliet's ensuing squeal of delight was cut off as it triggered another coughing fit.

Shawn's lungs burned painfully as the coughs wracked his body, not allowing him to draw in a full breath before it was violently expelled again. Just as black spots began dancing in front of his eyes, he managed to gain control of himself again. He took several ragged gasps of air before he could speak again.

"This sucks."

A/N: Ok, so I intended to have the second half of this chapter go back to Lassie, Gus, Henry, Jules, etc. outside the building, but it turns out I'm not quite satisfied with that scene yet and I did really want to post today, so I decided I would cut off the chapter here. It is a little short, but hopefully the fact that I updated counts for something? I promise we will get to everyone else next chapter.
~Tiff