Chapter 6
"Oh my god!" Gus started to pant, breathing in and out through his mouth "Oh my god!"
"Damnit Guster!" Lassiter yelled, "Stop acting like you're having contractions, and pull yourself together man!"
"I'm sorry," Gus whined, sobbing loudly, "I'm a sympathetic breather."
Lassiter raised an eyebrow at that and then shook his head, "Just call an ambulance." He couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Gus, watching Shawn in this amount of distress, having such a hard time drawing a breath was unsettling enough for the head detective to watch, so he couldn't imagine what it was like for the 'psychic's' best friend.
He turned his attention to the fake psychic, resting a hand on his shoulder, "OK now Spencer, I need you to calm down." Stopping the younger man from his panicked flailing was important, after all it wasn't going to help his condition any, and through training Lassiter was able to keep his voice calm and even. Satisfied that his flailing had lessened, albeit slightly, he continued, "Now, just breathe with me."
"Can't..."
"Yes you can." The younger man's breathing was getting rapidly worse, and Lassiter knew he needed to get Shawn to breathe more evenly, "Breathe with me." He ordered firmly, a small relieved smile appearing on his face when he saw the younger mans brow furrow in concentration as he did his best to follow the head detectives breathing.
"The ambulance is on it's way." Gus announced, his voice noticeably shaky.
"That's good." Lassiter answered, "Now get over here and help Spencer to breathe."
"I can't!" He scrunched up his face and sobbed some more.
"Yes you can, just do what I'm doing." Gus watched as Lassiter helped Shawn to breathe, "Got that?" On Gus' nod the head detective stood up, "Alright, you take over here, I'll go and wait for the ambulance." He hung around for just a moment, making absolute sure that Gus was doing it right, before going to wait outside the apartment, hoping desperately that the ambulance would get there as soon as possible.
After what seemed like hours, although in reality it was only a matter of minutes, Lassiter popped his head into Shawn's bedroom, "Ambulance is here!"
"Pneumothorax?" Shawn's breathing still didn't sound too great, but there was an improvement, even if his voice was slightly muffled from the oxygen mask he was wearing, "So I was poisoned!"
Gus shot his friend an exasperated look "Pneumothorax isn't a type of poison Shawn, it means your lung collapsed." Although he was pleased that his friend's condition had improved, it was still difficult to watch him lying there with wires and a tube sticking out of his chest.
"Gus don't be ridiculous, a human person's lung can't just suddenly collapse." Shawn narrowed his eyes at his friend, "C'mon son!"
"Actually, there is a condition called primary spontaneous pneumothorax, in which an healthy person's lung can collapse for no apparent reason." Dr Samuals replied.
"Really, so you're saying Gus' lung could collapse at any moment?"
"Shawn!" Gus warned.
"What the hell happened?" Henry demanded as he rushed in, giving his son a quick look over before deciding that Shawn looked a hell of a lot worse than the last time he'd saw him.
"As usual Spencer almost got himself killed due to his own stupidity." Lassiter piped up from the corner of the room.
The doctor turned to Henry, "Mr Spencer, your son suffered a secondary spontaneous pneumothorax, brought on by his pneumonia."
"Secondary?" Shawn interrupted, "How many different types of spontaneous does this collapse lung thing have?" He raised his arm to his head and groaned uncomfortably as his already high temperature started to rise again.
"Well, the two that have already been mentioned are forms of non traumatic pneumothorax," Gus explained, "then, there is also traumatic pneumothorax caused by trauma to the..."
Shawn lifted a hand to silence his friend, "Please Gus, for your own sake can you at least pretend not to know this stuff."
"You asked Shawn!" His friend huffed.
"Pneumonia?" Henry asked, ignoring their bickering, "How bad?"
"Your son's pneumonia is serious enough to warrant an hospital stay, even without the pneumothorax."
Henry wiped a hand down his face, "And the collapsed lung?"
"We've inserted a chest tube to drain the excess air," Dr Samuals replied, "which will need to remain installed for at least a day or two."
Shawn's eyes widened at that, "Wait, are you saying I could be in here for more than two days?"
The Doctor turned his attention to his patient, "Undoubtedly so."
"Well that simply won't do." Shawn pointed to the chest tube, "I'm gonna need you to remove this thing immediately."
Henry rolled his eyes, "Shawn, don't be an idiot."
"Dad tomorrow's Friday, if I stay here the Grim Reaper's gonna kill me."
"Grim Reaper?" Henry's brow furrowed in concern, "Are you feeling OK kid?"
Lassiter gave a heavy sigh, "Grim Reaper's the name of his imaginary killer."
"I didn't imagine anything!" Shawn retorted, "And he's your serial killer too!"
"No, my serial killer actually exists." Lassiter shot back, "Speaking of serial killers, I have work to do." The head detective made his way to the door.
"Lassie wait!" Shawn called out, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in his chest, "I want police protection."
"No."
"Just put a guard outside my room or something." The fake psychic pleaded, his breathing worsening slightly.
"Spencer I'm not gonna waste police resources on this little fantasy of yours."
"But what if I'm right?" Shawn shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling very hot and irritable, "Are you really willing to take that chance?"
"Yes." Lassiter replied, positive without a doubt that the 'psychic' was completely wrong about this one, "And don't try to leave here until the doctor releases you Spencer, because if you do, the Grim Reaper will be the least of your worries."
Shawn watched as the head detective left the room, and then turned his head away dejectedly, shutting his eyes tight as a wave of nausea hit him, "Don't feel so good..." He mumbled.
Shawn let out a low chesty groan and shifted restlessly, he felt hot, much too hot, as though his whole body was engulfed in flames, and the pressure on his chest was so intense it almost felt as though a giant elephant was pressing against it. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into the fitful slumber he'd awakened from, but there was something in the back of his hazy mind that was telling him he needed to wake up, something that was telling him that being asleep in the first place was a bad idea. He felt nervous...Frightened even, as though his very life was in danger, but he just couldn't quite remember why. He could hear voices, familiar voices, and they sounded concerned, which only succeeded in intensifying his own feeling of impending doom.
He tried desperately to open his eyes, but even a movement that simple was so much more difficult than it should have been. Finally, with great effort he was able to crack open one watery eye, but his vision was so blurry that he was finding it almost impossible to make out anything except a couple of moving figures in the room, and even they were just a mess of moving colours. Attempting to keep even one eye open quickly became too much for him, his eye lid felt so heavy, and he was getting a sharp pain in his head so he allowed it to close again.
Shawn opened his mouth in an attempt to communicate with the other people in the room, but all that came out was a bunch of unintelligible sounds, which only seemed to increase the level of concern in their voices. Shivers suddenly started to wreck through his body, he was cold now, freezing cold, the temperature change only helping to worsen his discomfort. His groaning grew louder than before, as his restless shifting was becoming much more pronounced. The voices sounded desperate now, and he could feel at least two sets of hands on his body, preventing his movements, which caused fear to creep up inside his confused, fevered mind.
He did his best to fight against said hands, but it was no use, he was just too weak and exhausted to do anything. He started to shout out, but like before, his words were still making absolutely no sense, in fact his voice sounded so hoarse it was almost unrecognisable, even to himself. A hand suddenly started to gently stroke his cheek in a soothing manner, it made him feel calmer, and safe. His body began to relax, and within minutes he started to drift off to sleep once again.
Shawn's eyes fluttered open, and he started to blink in a bid to get his eyes to focus on whoever was sat in the room with him, "Hey Jules." He croaked weakly when he finally realised who it was.
"Hey," Juliet smiled, placing a hand on his forehead and cringing a little with sympathy as she felt the heat that was still radiating off him, "You're fever doesn't seem to be as high as it was last night, so that's something at least."
Last night? That meant it was Friday, I'm screwed, I am so screwed.
"How are you feeling?"
Shawn thought about that for a moment, the truth was he couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt so ill, in fact he wasn't even sure if he ever had. His chest was killing him, in fact every single inch of his body hurt to some degree, he was completely exhausted, and his fever wasn't doing anything to help relieve his discomfort, "Like I just ran a marathon at high altitude." He answered, stifling a yawn.
"You need to sleep Shawn," She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, "you look exhausted."
"I'm Fine." He lied, knowing there was no way he could sleep, not when the murderer was so close to permanently silencing his only witness.
"Shawn, you were so ill last night that your doctor was seriously considering moving you to the ICU." She told him, "You had a ridiculously high fever and they were having a lot of trouble getting it down." She brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead, "So forgive me for doubting that you're fine."
"Finer then."
She raised an eyebrow, "Finer?"
"What, is 'Finer' not a word?" He gave her a puzzled look, "Should I have said better-er instead?"
"Try to get some sleep."
"Finer-iner-er?"
"Shawn..."
"Less crappy?"
"Shawn!"
Lassiter tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of the car impatiently as he waiting for the lights to change to green. It was getting pretty late now, and after following up on yet another lead that just ended up taking them to another dead end, Lassiter and Juliet were heading back to the station. His cellphone rang just as the lights changed, and he passed it to his partner as he drove on towards the police station.
From what the head detective could make out from Juliet's side of the conversation, he guessed it must have been the Chief, "Have they found another body?" He asked when the phone call had ended.
"Yeah, dumped in a secluded woodland area near the park." She answered.
At that, the head detective turned the car around and headed towards the location his partner had given. After about twenty minutes of so, Lassiter and Juliet pulled up to the crime scene and were greeted by a very nervous looking McNab.
"This way Detectives." The officer greeted, leading the way.
"Another homeless murder victim?" Juliet asked, as she and Lassiter followed McNab.
"Yeah, but you're really gonna wanna see this one." He told them, shining a torch into a ditch.
"What the...?" Lassiter looked down at the body in disbelief, the victim was a female, in her late twenties to early thirties, approximately 5ft 6" tall, fair hair, wearing an oversized blood soaked jacket, "Spencer was actually right about this, which means..."
"He could be in danger," Juliet looked at the time, "And visiting hours ended over a half hour ago!"
"Crap!" Lassiter rushed straight for his car and Juliet followed right behind, "Michaels, take over the crime scene!" The head detective ordered, before he and his partner got into the vehicle and drove off at full speed, siren blazing, towards the hospital.
A lopsided grin appeared on Shawn's face when he caught a glimpse of those awesome looking pineapple shoe laces again. His grin widened when he realised the doctor wearing them was walking right towards him, I like this guy already!
"Hello there Mr Spencer, I'm Dr Forster and I'm going to be covering for Dr Samuals tonight." The man greeted cheerfully, "So, how are feeling?"
Shawn allowed his eyes to travel up the doctor's body, "My chest isn't hurting as..." He stopped when he reached Forster's eyes.
Flash.
Cold, merciless eyes.
Shawn's grin quickly disappeared, "It was you...You're the Grim Reaper!" He blurted out, "You're the serial killer who's been going around murdering all the homeless people!"
The two of them locked eyes for a moment, each waiting for the other person to make a move. It was Shawn who acted first, fumbling desperately for the call button, but it was to no avail, his illness had left him way too weak, and despite the rush of adrenaline he was now feeling, the fake psychic was no match for the doctor, who was able to easily pin him down, using just one arm.
"I really wish you hadn't have said that." Dr Forster sighed, fishing around in his pocket with his free hand and pulling out a syringe, "Now you've gone and made things a lot more complicated for me."
Shawn's eyes widened when he saw said syringe coming straight towards him, "Come on man." He pleaded helplessly, "You don't have to do this!"
