Okay, this took a relative FOREVER to come out. Until now, I was just writing by the seat of my pants (as usual) and didn't have a plan. But now, after much deliberation, I do have a plan. It has changed several times. We'll see if I stick to this new one. In the meantime, here's some more story - just in time for me to go on vacation! :-)
Shawn and Juliet were seated side-by-side on a park bench as they watched Liam play in the sand with three other little kids.
Shawn sighed. After weeks of "investigating" Liam's possibly prophetic sketches, they were no closer to finding any potential victims.
They hadn't had any luck with a new preschool, either.
In the meantime, Liam's sleeping habits had grown worse than ever. Shawn and Juliet pretty much gave up on having their bed back anytime soon, and Liam's pillow, blankie, and teddy bear were now included every time they made the bed.
Shawn didn't mind Liam sleeping safely between them. Although he would prefer some alone time with his wife – would certainly require it in the not-too-distant future – having Liam nearby ensured that they didn't have to get out of bed when he inevitably woke up sobbing.
Whenever Shawn thought about it he felt sick, and, no matter how hard he tried, Shawn could think of nothing else. He was supposed to be the only psychic in the family, and the great thing about being a fake psychic was that it wasn't real.
Shawn could sleep soundly at night, or at least he used to, because terrifying visions didn't invade his dreams. Ghosts and possibilities didn't plague his playtime. When Shawn drew with Liam it was motorcycles and dinosaurs and pineapples on the beach... mindless coloring fodder. But when Liam drew it was death and murder and violence.
As much as Liam was like Shawn, ultimately he wasn't, and that terrified Shawn the most. Shawn could protect him from crossing the street in front of a speeding car or putting something in an electrical socket, but this whole psychic thing was annoyingly out of his scope. How could Shawn protect his son from the bad guys when he couldn't even see them? When no one could see them? He was failing his son just when he needed him the most.
Shawn snapped out his reverie long enough to notice Juliet was now mediating a sand shovel-fueled argument between Liam and a little girl in a Dora the Explorer shirt.
Liam had a fit, and Juliet grabbed his arm, sternly lecturing him as she pulled the scowling boy in Shawn's direction.
"I don't have to share," Liam was whining. "It was my turn to shovel."
"Liam, sharing is important. You have to learn to take turns."
They arrived at the bench.
"I don't like her," Liam scowled, tugging his hand free of Juliet in order to cross his arms over his shirt and glare in Dora's direction.
Looking at Liam's defiant, scrunched-up face, Shawn almost laughed.
"Let's get going," he decided, standing. He and Juliet began to walk but when Liam made no effort to move, Shawn doubled back.
"Come on, Liam."
Arms still crossed, he jutted his chin out with determination.
"No."
"Liam..."
"No."
"Liam, walk!"
"No!"
As frustrated as he was, a part of Shawn was pleased because it was moments like these that reminded him that Liam was – at least partly – a normal boy. That he was the child his father had gleefully warned him he'd have.
Shawn lifted the child up over his shoulder.
"Put me down!" Liam screeched.
"No," Shawn mimicked Liam's previous broken-record response, continuing to walk beside a smirking Juliet. He held on tight as Liam began to kick.
"Hey!" he barked in his best Dad Voice, the one that sounded scarily like his father's. "You better stop kicking, mister, or you're spending the night in your room."
Liam paused, momentarily considering his options.
Shawn gave Jules a triumphant look, but his smile slowly faded as Liam began kicking yet again.
Because of the miniature feet pounding at his side and the wails of protest emanating from the boy slung over his shoulder, Shawn wasn't sure but thought he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a Golden Retriever run up to the Dora girl and lick her face.
By the time he managed to turn around, the girl and the dog were nowhere in sight.
The hairs on the back of his neck raised, but Shawn couldn't be sure if it was because of the girl or because Liam was now pulling his hair.
They finally reached the car and Shawn buckled in a now-crying Liam then closed the door.
"Jules, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think that the girl that took Liam's shovel is the girl from his drawing."
Juliet looked up and narrowed her eyes, trying to look behind Shawn. "Really? Is she still there?"
Shawn shook his head. "No, but they have a dog so they probably parked by the dog trail. We might be able to catch them."
Juliet nodded and they both hurried into the car, buckling their seatbelts and ignoring the whimpers from their upset and overtired offspring in the backseat.
Juliet sped the car around the park and over to the lot near the dog trail. As they pulled up a man was shepherding a Golden Retriever into a white minivan.
A quick look had confirmed what Shawn had suspected- the Dora girl and the mom were already in the car. All three of them sported red hair a shade darker than in Liam's depiction.
"What do we do? I don't particularly want to go up to them and show the drawing of their death," Juliet mused. "Even with my badge they'll think I'm insane. And what if it's the wrong family?"
Shawn waved off her questions as the minivan started its engine. "It's not the wrong family. Follow them."
Juliet tailed the minivan as it exited the parking lot.
"So we follow them home. And then what?" she asked.
"I don't know," Shawn admitted. Honestly, none of them had ever thought that far ahead. Sure, they'd spent the past few weeks hunting for this mysterious and possibly doomed family, but they'd never discussed what they would do if they ever found them. Knowing they were in trouble was only a fraction of the solution. Convincing them of the danger and somehow preventing it, well, that was going to be the challenge.
There were no dates on Liam's drawings. They could happen in days, or weeks, or maybe even years. It was also entirely possible that they might never happen.
Although, given his recent track record, that wasn't very likely.
Juliet turned into a subdivision, still following the van. She lagged far enough behind that they lost them in the confusing twists and turns of identical houses. But a systematic search up one road and down the next eventually revealed the empty minivan parked in the driveway of a blue house.
"Now what?" Jules whispered, eyeing a drowsy Liam through the rear view mirror.
Shawn glanced behind him at their son before looking across the street at the potential victims' house.
"Feel like a good old-fashioned stakeout?"
"I'm hungry," Liam whined from the back seat.
Jules looked over at Shawn. "I am, too," she told him quietly.
Shawn glanced at the house across the street. They had been there nearly two hours and, aside from the father's brief trip to the mailbox and back, there hadn't been any noticeable movement.
Shawn didn't want to give up, but his traitorous stomach started growling at the mere mention of food.
"All right, we'll go get some dinner," he declared, wondering what it would take to convince Gus to give up his Saturday night for a stakeout.
Since his girlfriend was out of town, it turned out it didn't take much to convince Gus: just some jerk chicken, a milkshake, and sole control of the radio.
Gus slurped on his chocolate shake and shifted in his seat. "I still think it's wrong to bring your son on a stakeout."
Shawn glanced in the rear view mirror at Liam, asleep in the back seat. "He's a pro at stakeouts. All you have to do is put that little DVD player on and he's set for days."
Gus looked over at the darkened house, merely an outline in the shadows of the suburban subdivision's streetlights. "Did you tell Lassiter?"
"Of course! Jules and Lassiter both know we're here. Do you think I'm that irresponsible?"
Gus's wide grin gleamed, even in the dark car.
"Give me a little credit, Gus. They know we're here. The Chief knows, too. Jules would be here herself if they weren't working that Lawson case."
"The Lawson case? Is that the arson one?"
"Yeah. Lawson arson. Say that one five times fast."
Gus looked at him. Clearly he wasn't going to be saying anything five times fast. Shawn continued with a dramatic sigh. "Anyway, the Chief said they don't need our help on it, but I plan on convincing her otherwise in a few days."
"Before rent is due?"
"You know it."
They settled into a silence broken only by the occasional strained slurping of a thick milkshake.
"Did the Chief say what to do?" Gus wondered.
"What to do about what?" Shawn asked, futilely adjusting the binoculars. "Dude, we seriously need to invest in some night vision goggles."
"If we see something," Gus explained, ignoring Shawn. "What are we supposed to do?"
Shawn rolled his eyes and begin to recite, counting on his fingers. "Call for back-up. Do not get out of the car. Tail them if and only if the bad guys try to escape before any black and whites show up."
Gus looked warily over at Shawn. "So, in other words, we don't do anything."
"Nothing dangerous," Shawn said solemnly. "Nothing fun."
"Yeah, somehow I doubt that'll be the case."
"Aw, Gus. I'm flattered. We do have fun, don't we?"
Now it was Gus's turn to roll his eyes. "I meant the 'nothing dangerous' part. Did you see how much our insurance went up this year?"
"You accidentally set one little fire..."
"Shawn, you nearly burned down the whole office block!"
"It's not my fault the -"
Behind them, Liam stirred. Shawn lowered his voice.
"It's not my fault the fire extinguisher was empty!" he hissed.
"Maybe, maybe not, but it wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't been playing with matches in the first place!"
"I wasn't playing with matches, Gus. I was constructing a matchstick house which, in hindsight, shouldn't have been so close to the candle for your satsuma scented oils."
"My scented oils? I'm not the one with the Body Shop loyalty card."
"Touché. But can we at least agree that the office smells nice?"
"Yeah, once the firefighters left."
A movement across the street caught their attention. Shawn tensed, his eyes straining to see clearly through the inferior binoculars. Gus leaned forward, his sights trained on the house they'd been watching for hours. Neither one breathed.
A long moment later, Shawn laughed.
Gus craned his neck and saw Shawn dropping the binoculars into his lap and leaning back in the seat.
"What?"
"It's embarrassing, dude."
"What?"
Shawn handed Gus the binoculars. "Have a good look at our culprit."
Curious, Gus took them and adjusted them as best he could. "What is that?"
Shawn ran a hand through his hair. "A raccoon."
"A raccoon?"
"Maybe a possum, I don't know. But definitely not a person."
Sure enough, the small creature was prowling through the front yard, heading for the trash can.
"Okay, so we're a little jumpy," Gus decided, placing the binoculars on the dashboard. "I think that can be expected at 1:30 in the morning and after," Gus glanced around him, adding up the garbage at their feet. "Seven cans of Red Bull."
Shawn shook his head. "Gus, I think this is just a waste of time."
"How can you say that? You saw Liam's drawing."
"Yes, I did. But there's no date on it. It could happen any day, any time. Hell, it could happen on their summer vacation. Are we supposed to watch them 24/7? I don't know about you, but I'd like to have a life every so often. And as much as I like peeing in neighbor's shrubs, I wouldn't mind indoor plumbing in the cool of the night."
Gus sighed. "Fine. But what if we go home now and they disappear?"
Shawn glanced over at the house again. Gus was right.
"Fine."
Shawn picked up the binoculars again. "But we're getting night vision goggles for tomorrow."
Gus nodded in agreement. "You know that's right."
They went back to their reluctant surveillance, punctuated by the soft snores from the back seat.
"Twenty questions?" Shawn asked.
"No."
"Even if that counted as one of my questions?"
"No."
"I spy?"
"Shawn."
"That wasn't a no!" he waved his fist triumphantly. "I spy with my little eye something that is shadowy."
"Shadowy is not a col-"
Liam's scream interrupted Gus. In an instant, Shawn opened his door, hopped outside and into the backseat. Liam kept screaming, his eyes half open but definitely not focused. Shawn struggled with undoing the straps from the booster seat as Gus slowly raised his hands to cover his ears.
Shawn snatched Liam out of the seat and carefully got them both outside. Holding him tight, rocking gently as he paced the sidewalk next to the car, Shawn murmured soothingly.
A few lights flicked on in the nearby houses. Liam's desperate screams didn't get any quieter.
Shawn only had one ace up his sleeve; he started singing. Juliet had discovered that singing helped, and one song in particular calmed their son when he had his worst nightmares.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," Shawn sang quietly. "You make me happy when skies are gray," he continued, getting the distinct impression that it was his wife's comforting voice and not so much the song that quieted Liam. He continued pacing, maneuvering his lips closer to his boy's ears. "You never know, dear, how much I love you."
Liam pulled back slightly from Shawn's grasp. His eyes were red and scared, but fully opened.
Shawn almost cried in relief.
"Please don't take my sunshine away," he finished in a whisper.
"Daddy?" Liam asked, a look of confusion on his tear-streaked face.
"Welcome back, kiddo."
Liam sank back against his chest. "I want to go home," he said into Shawn's shirt.
"We'll go home," Shawn assured, still pacing slowly on the sidewalk. He kept walking until he felt the tension melt from the little body in his arms.
Shawn buckled Liam back in his seat and re-joined a worried Gus in the front.
"I have to take him home," Shawn said quietly.
"I know.".
Shawn started the engine.
"I had no idea it had gotten so bad," Gus commented gently. "Maybe he should see a doctor."
"You think?" Shawn snapped. Shawn and Juliet had discussed the possibility a few times. Although tempted by the prospect of a good night's sleep for all in the Spencer household, they had hesitated in the hopes that it was just a phase. Seeking help from a doctor meant that it wasn't temporary, that he wasn't going to grow out of it; it meant that something might be really and truly wrong with their son.
As the memory of Liam's distant eyes and terrified screams replayed in his mind, Shawn decided that maybe, maybe his father had been right.
"I'm sorry," he apologized to Gus, who waved off the words.
With one last glance at the house, Shawn pulled away.
He didn't see the lone figure peeking out from behind a curtain.
Juliet was worried he was going to start noticing soon.
He was his father's son, after all, and applesauce didn't used to be a daily occurrence. But it'd been going on for a month and so far no questions or complaints.
They'd agonized over it, but after all the doctor's visits and trips to the child psychiatrist and the sleep clinic, it really was the best option. He was sleeping through the night again and that alone was worth it.
Juliet tried not to think of the side effects.
She could have pinpointed the exact moment when the pills started working. She'd picked up Liam from preschool and, as a special treat, the two of them had gotten ice cream cones – with sprinkles, of course – and went for a walk along the beach. Liam loved ice cream, he loved the sand, he loved the ocean; he'd been bouncing with excitement about their unexpected outing.
But he hadn't even gotten through half the sprinkles before it looked like the cone was too heavy for him to hold. His head started rolling forward but he'd catch himself, his dark blond hair swishing with the movements as his neck struggled valiantly to right his head.
It hit him so suddenly that he would have fallen asleep standing up if Juliet hadn't picked him up.
He slept through most of that weekend, but Shawn and Juliet had convinced themselves he was catching up on much-needed rest.
He didn't wake up screaming anymore. Since he'd started his prescription, he had slept soundly and punctually. Every night at almost exactly 8:28 his eyes would start to droop, and every morning he was bounding into their room at 7:00 on the dot.
Juliet was grateful to have her bed back – extremely grateful, actually, and after that one particular night even more grateful than she'd imagined – but she worried that they'd made the wrong choice.
Before she'd had Liam, Juliet hadn't really given the issue much thought. She didn't believe in parents pumping their tiny, developing children full of mind- and mood-altering drugs. But now she wasn't sure.
It couldn't be all bad if it was helping.
Her son needed to sleep. He needed to not be afraid of bedtime, not be afraid of waking up screaming. His lack of sleep made him cranky, and his crankiness made his parents cranky as well.
The doctors hadn't found anything physically wrong with him; his MRI and CAT scans were normal. He'd talked with and described his bad dreams to the psychiatrist, drew more pictures, had his sleeping patterns monitored and examined. The medicine wasn't the best choice; it was the only choice.
It had been a month of hiding pills in applesauce, but also a month of uninterrupted sleep. Juliet told herself it was only temporary. He wouldn't be on the drugs forever. But all three of them were better rested and life wasn't as tense and heartbreaking as it had been.
And after that first weekend, it had gotten better. He could handle the pills. He was still quieter than usual, more withdrawn, but his energy levels were back up and he was laughing and running and smiling.
Liam just wasn't drawing pictures anymore.
His new teacher had mentioned that when it came time for art, he struggled with drawing. She had seen his pictures before, and although not typical coloring subject matters (though less disturbing than his notorious batch), they were detailed and showed creativity.
Lately he could hardly draw a line. When the teacher had given the class thirty minutes to draw their houses, Liam had only managed to draw the outline of a square – he hadn't even colored it in. Most of art time was spent staring at the paper, sometimes even without a crayon in his hand.
Juliet hoped it was a small price to pay.
