If he was honest, Shawn would be the first to admit that he frankly hated hospitals. All those smells of cleaning supplies and hand sanitizer made his nose itch.

Shawn shifted in the hard seat, trying to stare down the pale walls of the small room. He wished Gus had fought against him harder and insisted on coming with, but hey, the whole reason Gus had come was to spend time with his long-lost cousin, and Shawn, well, he could do this by himself. At least, that's what he'd thought at the time.

He rubbed at his hand, then let out a yelp. Wrong hand.

"Oh, give that to me," the doctor said, setting down a clipboard on top of a paper labeled Hayden's Disease. She took his hand in her own, frowning as she tilted itback and forth. Strands of jet-black hair curled around her amber skin, falling over her shoulder and across her nametag, which bore the title of Doctor Delilah Sarin. She looked just about as happy as Shawn to be here right now. "How did you get this anyway?"

"Just, y'know, cut it on some metal," Shawn muttered.

Delilah released his hand and turned back to her computer, tapping a pen against the marbled gray desk. "Looks like I managed to get all the infection. We'll still have to have you take a blood test. You'll need to fill out your contact information, so we know how to get back to you." She shoved a piece of paper towards him, then followed it with a pen, eyes still fixed on the computer screen. Shawn began scratching out his information, and Delilah continued, "Lastly, you'll need to pick up some amoxicillin which you'll need to take twice a day for the next ten days."

"Great." The word rasped in his throat, followed by the distinct sensation that someone was shoving sandpaper down his trachea.

Delilah's eyes snapped away from the computer screen.

"Open your mouth."

"It's n—"

She gave him a look, the same kind of I'll shoot you with my laser eyes if you don't listen to me look that Chief Vick gave him and Gus sometimes.

Shawn did as he was told.

"Hmm. Bit inflamed, but not too bad." She placed her icy hand on his forehead, then took it off. "Not too much of a fever. Looks like just a bad cold. But..." she trailed off, her eyebrows drawing together. "Just get some rest, take your pick of cold medicine, something with dextromethorphan HBr and you should be fine. As for the blood draw... normally, we'd call in the nurse, but since this was a last-minute thing, I'll have to do it myself."

"Um, yeah," Shawn said, feeling his stomach twist into a fantastic Gordian knot. Jeez, wasn't the whole point of hospitals to make you feel better?

About eighty-seven agonizing seconds later, he heard the wonderful sound of "Done." Then, "You'll be able to pick up the amoxicillin at the pharmacy downstairs. Just give them this." She handed him a piece of paper and stepped towards the door.

"Uh, hey," Shawn said, holding up a hand. "Uh, do you think you could take me there? I mean, I'm getting some pretty strong David Bowie vibes off this place."

Delilah arched an eyebrow. "David... what?"

Shawn had never missed Gus more than he did in that moment. "Y'know, Labyrinth?"

Delilah just shook her head. "I was planning on heading down there anyway, so yes, I can take you."

She opened the door, and Shawn trailed after her through the long, starch white halls which kept glaring at him. Supposedly "calming" pictures were hung on the walls, with blazing colors depicting fruit or blocks.

"Abner! I didn't know you were coming today!"

Shawn promptly quit his staring contest with the walls and turned to see Delilah's eyes lit up, her mouth curved in a grin, something Shawn wasn't sure she was capable of until now.

The older man chuckled, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his smudged lab coat. "I wasn't. But then I thought, I haven't come to say hello to you in a while, so I decided to come and see how my girl was doing."

"I'm fine," Delilah said with a roll of her eyes.

Shawn had to resist the urge to break in with "And I'm Shawn."

"I'm just going to drop him off at the pharmaceutical center, then see if I can get some more work done on the disease."

Abner took off his glasses again, scratched his stubbly gray beard with the end, then put them back on. "Well, about that... really sorry, Dee, but I was handed these with specific instructions that you were to get them filled out."

"Seriously?" Delilah said, grabbing the files out of Abner's hands. "Every. Single. Time! Anyone has any paperwork, oh, let's just send it to Delilah!" Then she shook her head, her face becoming neutral and passive once more. "Come on, Shawn."

"Oh, Shawn, was it?" Abner said, turning to Shawn. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh, yeah, you too," Shawn said, and shook the man's calloused hand, before hurrying after Delilah.

Two flights of stairs and countless blank corridors later, they were in front of a medium-sized door marked "Pharmaceuticals." Within seconds, Delilah had disappeared inside and reappeared back outside, after which she shoved a bottle of pills into his hand.

She looked ready to go when Shawn saw her eye dart towards something over Shawn's shoulder. Her face grew hard, her mouth curling into almost a snarl.

Shawn turned and saw a woman with short, curly blood-red hair that bounced up and down around her pale face as she waved her hands. She was talking to a tall man with dark hair.

"I'm sensing you don't like this woman," Shawn said.

"Doesn't take a psychic to figure that out," Delilah muttered.

"Actually, about that..." Shawn stopped, feeling his lips quirk up in a grin. The woman's ID said Veronica Hayden. Hayden's disease. "You're jealous, aren't you? This woman, you've got a bit of a rivalry going on, and she's pulled ahead. She's discovered a whole new disease and they named it after her. She gets all the glory, you get all the paperwork."

Delilah stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "Yes. I... I guess that's true." She let out a sigh, running her fingers through strands of black hair. "To tell you the truth, I'm no good with patients. They only stuck me with you because it's been so busy lately and I'm the one who's just shy of intern status. Exit's that way, and if that cough doesn't get better within a week, make sure to come back. Same with the infection." With that, she brushed past him and disappeared around a door.

Shawn just nodded. Finally, time to say goodbye. He turned to go, the sound of a man's voice floating into his ears as he began walking down the long corridor.

"How's your patient doing?"

A woman's voice. "Mr. Smith—"

"Veronica. It's me. You don't have to be so formal."

"Fine, then. Owen wasn't doing so well. He—it was getting harder for him to breathe, we thought we were going to have to move him onto life support soon—"

"Why are you using the past tense?"

"Well—because—I don't really know how he's doing right now."

"Uh… and why don't you know?"

"He's gone. Disappeared. I—I think he was kidnapped."

Shawn's body jerked to a stop mid-step. Well this just got interesting.

Ever so carefully, he lowered his foot, then turned and stepped towards the voice, pressing his body against the wall. He stole a glance around the corner and saw that it was Veronica talking, her hand pressed to her forehead as she paced back and forth.

"Wait, what? I—Veronica, you're stressed. I get it. You've been working so hard to save other people, you aren't taking care of yourself," he said. "The hospital probably just released him."

"No, they didn't, Mark!" she snapped. "I saw him! He wasn't well enough to get released. Not at all."

"Okay… so maybe he got transferred and someone just forgot to tell you," Mark said, his voice low, soft. He reached out and touched her shoulder. "You can't keep jumping to conclusions like this."

Veronica just gave an exaggerated "Uuuuugh," and pulled away to fold her arms. "Fine. I'm done. I'm done talking about this. Are you doing anything tonight?" She turned back to him, a smile pasted on her face. "See? I'm talking about different things."

Then it was Mark's turn to scrub a hand over his face. "Well..."

Veronica reached up her hands and mussed them into Mark's thick black hair, the smile becoming genuine. "Oh, weren't you the one who was just saying someone's got to take it easy?"

Mark let out a sigh. "It's just with Dad... he's not doing too great. I'm going to try talking to him again. I just—I just wish—"

Just then came a loud ring. It was coming from Shawn's pocket.

"What the—argh—" Shawn jerked back and jerked his phone out of his pocket so fast it almost flew out of his hands. Then, just as soon as it had started, the ringing stopped.

Well, that was weird.

Shawn slid the unlock button and began tapping and swiping at the screen, eyes narrowed. No missed calls. Huh.

"You okay there?"

Shawn jerked again, and almost dropped the phone for the second time. He looked up to see Mark, one eyebrow raised, a barely concealed grin sliding across his face. He seemed friendly, with messy black hair, warm brown eyes and a good half-inch of beard.

Shawn shoved his phone back into his pocket and shrugged his shoulders, trying to match Mark's grin with one of his own. "Nah, I'm good. Just heading out." He jerked his thumb towards the exit sign.

Mark nodded. "I was about to head out too, and I saw you looking really confused. Just thought I'd ask."

His tone sounded genuine, his gaze amused. Lying? Maybe, maybe not.

"My name's Shawn Spencer and—" Shawn stopped, remembering Gus wasn't with him. "And… nice to meet you."

"Name's Mark," Mark said. "And since you seem to be okay, I'll be heading out. Promised someone I'd go pick up a box of doughnuts for her—It's a long story, okay?—and anyway, yeah."

He brushed past Shawn, heading down the hallway. Shawn glanced over, watching him go for a few steps. One of his legs, the left one, dragged behind him, supporting his weight when he needed it, but barely agreeing to move.

The brown smudge of footprints, and beside them, broken streaks of dried mud on the worn floorboards...

The kind someone with a limp might make. Found only a few steps away from where Sam was kidnapped.

Time to pull out the psychic. "There's something odd about you, Mark."

Mark froze. He swung around, eyebrows drawn together. "What?"

Shawn touched his finger to his temple. "You don't work here, and the spirits tell me you aren't here to visit someone sick or injured. So, what brings you here, Mark? I mean... you haven't gotten into any trouble in the Glades, have you? Any run down old buildings..."

"Uh... well, no..." Mark tilted his head ever so slightly, squinting. "I just came here to check up on a friend."

"Veronica Hayden."

"You were listening to us, weren't you?" Mark said, his voice muffled as he scrubbed a hand over his face, as if he were really asking himself why he was still here.

"Me?" Shawn held up his hands. "I was just trying to figure out why my so-called 'smart phone' was acting like it just got stabbed with a taser. I'm a psychic, Mark. I can sense you're pretty stressed out, haven't gotten a full eight hours since who-knows-when, and—" He glanced at Mark's palm, streaked with ink. "You're a bit forgetful."

"Oh, yeah. Psychic. We got some of those down in the Glades," Mark said, his voice little more than a sigh. "And if you're really psychic, you'll know there's nothing going on."

"I—"

"We're just friends, that's all."

Shawn closed his mouth. Not the answer I was looking for, Mark. But I can work with it. He quirked one eyebrow up, giving Mark a knowing glance. "For now," he said, trying to resist the urge to sniffle.

"Uh, what's that supposed to mean?" Mark spluttered, his face screwing up in confusion.

Shawn just tapped his temple and turned to start walking away, trying to get to the door before his shoulders started shaking from the concealed laughter. He had to admit, this was one of the best reactions to a vision he'd gotten in a while. Whenever he tried to mess with Jules, she would always just roll her eyes and slap him lightly on the shoulder, though her eyes would sparkle.

He felt the urge subside as quickly as it had come. How long had he been away from Santa Barbara now? Weeks? Months? Years?

Four days, Shawn.

He could almost hear Gus' voice in his head as he pushed open the door, which lead to a narrow stairwell. He glanced behind him to make sure no one was looking before grabbing the rails and swinging down the stairs three at a time.

At last, freedom!

He swung open the door, threw himself out and smacked headlong into someone.

Shawn stumbled backwards, his hands reaching for something but finding only smooth, cold wall. His back smacked into the door and he sat down hard.

"Shawn, are you okay?"

After a fraction of a second spent scooping up his scattered thoughts, Shawn opened his tightly shut eyes to see the dusty brown hand of his one and only best friend, Gus.

Shawn grabbed it and heaved himself up, slapping Gus on the shoulder. "Gus!" he gasped. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"It's only been two hours."

"I think I know who might have kidnapped Sam."

Gus' leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Who?"

Shawn grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the stairwell. "His name is Mark. Mark... well, okay, I don't know his last name yet. Remember those footprints we found?"

"Not everyone has an eidetic memory like you do, Shawn."

"Well, they were made by someone who has a limp. Mark has a limp."

"Who has a limp?" asked Ava, who had just entered the stairwell herself. Shawn gave her the one sentence explanation, with Gus insisting on butting in with his own comments.

She frowned. "But it's purely circumstantial. He could have been there for any number of reasons."

Shawn let out a long-suffering sigh and said, "Like what? Who goes into an old, broken down hotel just to take a nice stroll around? It's not exactly the Ritz or anything. And you know what would be cool? If the Ritz were made entirely out of Ritz-bits."

"Shawn."

o

Shawn took a breath as they stepped outside Starling General back into the slightly damp, slightly smoggy air of Starling City. Across the parking lot sat the Blueberry, waiting for them like a loyal dog. Shawn had just begun to step towards it when his phone rang loudly. He gave a loud groan.

"Oh, c'mon, not again."

"What do you mean, not again?" Ava asked.

Shawn's hand dove into his pocket. "Tell you in a sec." He didn't recognize the number, but hit the "Accept" button anyway. "Hello?"

"Oh hey, Shawn, how's it going?"

It took him a second to recognize the voice. "Felicity?"

"Oh right. I probably should have said that first. Well, I just thought I'd let you know, I was able to crack the code."

Shawn jumped into the air, pumping a fist. "Great! Hey, Gus, she cracked it. The code. Pull up your notes or something on your phone."

Gus nodded and jerked out his phone, fingers at the ready.

"Alright, so what does it say?" Shawn asked, pushing the "speaker" button.

"It's... it looks like some sort of to do list," Felicity said. " 'Do laundry. Remember to pick it up from the Undertaking. Stock up on food, and..." There was the sound of tapping keys. "Tell the Whistler about… Hm. Just trails off here." She let out a small, frustrated noise. "I mean, if he had written something down, then erased it, I could probably have recovered it, but he didn't write anything."

"It's alright. Thank you, Felicity. You've been a great help," Gus said.

For a second, Shawn just frowned. The Undertaking? Wasn't that the official term of the terrorist attack two years ago? Or was that the Underfelling?

Shawn slowly repeated the words, turning them over and over in his mind, keeping in time with the slap of his feet against the pavement. Wait-

"Don't trust her," Felicity said, her voice nothing more than a crackle in his ear.

"What?" Shawn jerked his head up, but saw nothing, just the gray buildings of Starling.

"Oh, sorry. That's just the last thing on the note."

"Creepy," Gus muttered.

"But who's the Whistler?" Shawn asked. "It's a code inside a code. Like… Inception."

"That was a dream inside a dream," Ava said, before sliding into the Blueberry shotgun.

"I know!"

Gus swung open the car door and Shawn did the same, stretching himself out in the back seat with a sigh. Was it cold in here, or what it just him?

"What I'm wondering about is 'Remember to pick it up from the Undertaking.' "

"He must be talking about somewhere inside the abandoned subway tunnels. Where the earthquake device was located. Let me see..." there was the sound of fingers flying over a keyboard, then, "I'm sending you the coordinates now."

"Hey, Felicity, you should come with us," Gus said, his hands settling around the steering wheel.

"Who, me?" Felicity sounded startled. "Um, well, I'm actually kind of at work right now, and Ray, well, I do kind of disappear from time to time, so he's kind of used to that, but I've been trying to cut down on that."

"Fair enough," Shawn said, leaning his head against the cool window and letting out a sigh as his head began to throb dully.

Felicity must have mistaken it for disappointment, because she broke in with, "But I'm sure Oliver wouldn't mind coming along."

"Does he usually get involved with this type of stuff?" Shawn asked.

A pause, then, "No, not really. He's mostly just trying to find work right now. But he seemed pretty interested in this case you're trying to solve. I'll go ask him right now."

The line cut out, then an image popped up on his screen, a red flag in the middle of several streets, sort of like Google Maps. Coordinates.

Weird that she knows where it is.

"Hey," Shawn said, leaning forward in his seat, "you should come with us, Ava. We'd be like a of adventurers, going off into the dungeon to fight the dragons. I'll be the rogue, Gus can be the bard-"

"I am not being the bard, Shawn."

"Uh..." Ava gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. "I don't know if I really want to go to the place that caused a quarter of the city to be destroyed." She swallowed. "But, y'know, next time you're going to some weird abandoned place, that didn't result in hundreds of people dying, tell me. Just be careful, okay?"

Shawn snorted, rubbing a thumb over his temple. "Into the unknown."

A/N: Yeah, I'll be honest, this isn't one of my favorite chapters, although it is very important. I compiled all my memories of clinic check-ups and the like (including a 3 hour visit while I was actually writing the first draft where the doctor was pretty confused on why I had a cough for 2 months. Might have been bronchitis, I dunno. I'm fine now.) for reference while writing the hospital scene. I mean, I dunno if I've ever actually read a story where the character just goes in for some minor injury, haha.

It will be a little bit before the next chapter comes out, but after that, things really start picking up, clues start falling into place, so you've got a lot to look forward to! :D