Sherman and Winchester were still making their way to the second gas station when Winchester got a call from Margaret. He listened for a minute, but he just ended up saying, "What?"

Sherman would've sighed if he'd been less focused on his son.

"Margaret, wait, slow down. Going back? Wind chimes? No, that doesn't mean anything to me!"

Sherman skidded to a halt, whipping around and grabbing Winchester's arm to stop him. "Whoa, wait! Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

He concentrated, thinking back to the gas station. Remembering the wrenches clanging in the breeze. "He's back at the gas station!"

Damn it, we were right there.

And he just watched us leave him.

"Come on, come on!" he yelled at the detective, taking off again.

Winchester threw his empty hand up in annoyance but turned to follow. "Margaret, can you make it back to the Mariposa exit off the 166? There's a gas station two blocks up."

Another few moments and he hung up, managing to catch up to Sherman. "She said something about a robbery taking place near there, she'll explain later."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sherman said, hardly able to care about some insured money when Hawkeye's life was on the line. "Just run, old-timer!"

They reached it at the same time B.J. and Margaret raced in with the Echo. Sherman slowed only reluctantly, letting the two armed detectives take the lead. B.J. stayed behind him as Winchester grabbed the door. He gave his partner a nod and threw the door open, letting her charge in to clear the place.

They went into the garage, Sherman on their heels. His heart stopped when he saw the body's feet, but he let out a relieved breath when he realized it wasn't Hawkeye. But when he didn't see his son, alive or otherwise, he ran his fingers through the remains of his hair, tugging on it in frustration.

We left him, and now he's gone.

"Longmore," B.J. said, staring at the kidnapper lying on the ground, unconscious and bleeding from a wound in his stomach.

Margaret lowered her gun, glancing to the others. "Where's Hawkeye?" she whispered.

For a moment, her horror just echoed through the silent room.

"We're going after him," Sherman stated. He crouched, reaching for the discarded phone on the ground, turning it over to brush his thumb over the familiar Psych logo. "Get Radar to get your car over here, Winchester."

"I called him on the way here," Margaret said as a siren wailed closer. "And an ambulance. I thought it would be for Hawkeye, but…"

"We'll call a second one," Winchester said. "Let's do this!"

They rushed outside, meeting Radar as he hopped out of Winchester's car, the head detective rambling off orders. "Houlihan, stay close, you know the drill."

She nodded. "Keys," she said, holding her hand out to B.J.

"Whoa, I'm not covered for someone else driving my car," he protested.

"I'm a police detective and a certified pursuit driver, I think you'll be ok. Keys, B.J."

His concern for Hawkeye won out over his sensibility. As Sherman dropped into the passenger seat of Winchester's car, he slammed his keys into Margaret's hand and hurried to his own passenger side. Tires squealing, both cars raced away from the gas station, kicking up dust in their wake.

-SBPD-

Wind whipped through Hawkeye's hair as Snape's dingy red truck barreled down the highway. He'd been tied up with actual rope this time – he was learning. But at least there was no one to guard him, and he was in the open bed – someone would see him, or he would get the rope undone and hop out as soon as it was relatively safe.

Sunlight glinting off distant metal caught his attention. He shifted, preparing to lift his hands and yell for help.

Wait. Is that-

A little, bright blue Echo racing up alongside a dark blue detective's car that was blatantly ignoring the yellow lines.

"Oh, thank god, they got my clues. Yeah! Go team!"

Winny swerved back into the right lane as a random truck came down the other way, steadily pulling ahead of the Blueberry. He noticed with a prick of relief that his dad was riding shotgun. When it passed, he pulled back into the wrong lane, speeding up to drive alongside Hawkeye's truck. He worked harder to undo the rope.

Snape saw them and swerved into them, forcing Winny to swerve away, kicking up dirt as his left tires left the road. Hawkeye yelped as the movement slammed his shoulder into the truck bed. Margaret came up on the truck's other side, B.J. riding shotgun. "That must've killed him- Is that my shirt?"

He shook his head, returning to pulling at the ropes. Not important right now.

Finally, the ropes came undone. He threw them off, hauling himself onto his feet, but staying low to keep his balance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape glancing back at him, mouth twisted into a frustrated snarl. He must've knocked his gun onto the floor, because he disappeared below the window to reach for it, swerving violently towards Margaret as he did so.

Hawkeye slammed into the truck again, but managed to catch himself before he hit his shoulder. Still hurt like hell, though he wasn't going to show it now. "Whoo!" he yelled, leaning over to talk to B.J. over Margaret. "Look at you, buddy! You're like Vin Diesel!"

B.J. yelled back eagerly, throwing himself into the reference with boundless joy, much to Margaret's irritation as he practically yelled in her ear. "That makes Margaret Michelle Rodriguez, and you Paul Walker!"

Oh no. "This is no good!"

"Don't worry, Hawkeye," B.J. rushed to reassure him, "you're gonna be all right."

"I know, I'll be fine." Well, now I know. "I just really don't wanna be Paul Walker, not even for one day."

Margaret's focus on her pursuit driving faltered as she stared at him like Really? That's what you're complaining about right now?

"You could be Lucas Black from Tokyo Drift, but then we wouldn't be in the movie with you," B.J. suggested.

"That's weird," Hawkeye said. "I'll just be Walker."

Ok, I gotta get out of this truck. "You ready, buddy? I'm gonna jump on your hood."

Margaret sucked in a breath, but B.J. beat her to it. "You must be out of your damn mind, Hawkeye! It's a company car, jump on Winchester's! Sorry!"

Really? Really Beej? Fine, it'll be easier to land on Winny's car anyway. That's totally why he's making me jump on Winny's. And it'll annoy him. That's always fun.

Grumbling, Hawkeye turned to the detective's car. "Move closer!" he yelled, waving him over as he prepared to jump.

"No, no!" Winchester yelled. "Do not jump on this vehicle! This is a brand-new vehicle!"

Hawkeye slammed his hand on the edge of the truck bed. "Look, man, I have been shot! I am jumping on somebody's car!"

"Hawkeye, no!" Dad yelled. "No, no, it's not safe-"

"I don't care!"

"Pierce-"

With a courage-building scream, Hawkeye leaped.

He landed on the hood to the tune of Dad and Winny's horrified "Whoa!" They were perfectly in sync – he might've found it weirdly adorable and taken time to call them out on it if pain hadn't just ricocheted throughout his entire body. He pushed through it, grabbing the rearview mirror and crevice where the windshield wipers rested to hold himself in place.

"Stop the car!" Dad demanded.

"Don't you dare stop this car, Winny!"

"Hang on tight, hold on, hold on!" Dad said.

"Great idea, Dad, I was thinking of not doing that!" But damn it was harder than it looked, especially with his shoulder screaming at him to let go.

Gunshots exploded on the other side of the truck, accompanied by B.J. yelling, "Lay back! Lay back!"

Air hissed loudly, and a moment later, the Blueberry was dropping back, its front left tire deflated. Although the fact that it had managed to keep up until then was a miracle.

Which left Snape able to focus his gun on Winny's car. With Hawkeye sprawled on the hood right next to the driver's side window, utterly defenseless.

"Gun it, old man!" Dad ordered.

"Watch this," Charles said. Hawkeye felt the engine rev, the powerful vibrations decidedly not good for his shoulder, and then they were flying forward, just as Snape started firing. They just barely missed Hawkeye as he flinched behind the cover of the windshield. Winchester pulled out his gun, reaching across Dad to try to return fire, until Dad wrested the gun from him.

"Potter-Pierce, what the hell are you doing?" Winchester snapped.

"Which Potter-Pierce are you talking to?"

"It doesn't matter, you're the same person!"

"Am not!" Hawkeye protested.

Dad twisted awkwardly, trying to aim behind him. "Dad, I have a clear shot, give me the gun. Do it!"

Reluctantly, Dad handed it over. Bracing himself against the rearview mirror, Hawkeye aimed for the red truck's grill and fired once, twice, three times, four-

Smoke erupted from the grill as the truck slowed to a halt. Winchester spun his car around, coming to a halt blocking Snape's path forward. Hawkeye slumped forward, holding the gun out for Winny. He grabbed it and, hooking his fingers into Hawkeye's belt, he dragged the fake psychic off the hood, all but throwing him behind him and crouching behind the car.

"Drop it!" he ordered Snape. "Drop it now! Hands where I can see them! Hands!"

Snape tried to fire, but his magazine was empty. With a frustrated grunt, he dropped the gun and raised his hands. As Winchester moved in to grab him, Dad ran around the front of the car, and it took all of Hawkeye's meager remaining strength not to just melt into his arms. "Dad," he moaned.

"Come here," Dad said, guiding him back to the hood of Winny's car. Hawkeye slumped against it, and in that moment, nothing in the world was more comfortable than that warm metal surface. "Come here, son, that's it."

Winchester slammed Snape against the hood of his car, and Hawkeye shivered as Dad let go of him to help the detective cuff his kidnapper.

"Nice shooting, Detective," Winny said.

Hawkeye struggled to lift his head, his words slurring together as he spoke. "Did you just call me detective?"

Winny hesitated. "No," he mumbled.

Dad chuckled, but there was pride in his eyes as he looked at Hawkeye. And that almost made some of the pain worth it.

Hawkeye pointed back down the road. "Hey, shouldn't we wait for Diesel and Rodriguez before you slap the cuffs on him?"

Everyone turned around to see the Blueberry struggling to cover the distance between them. It was funny, in the most pathetic way, and Hawkeye almost laughed.

Except his knees picked that moment to buckle, and his sluggish fingers couldn't grip the hood fast enough to hold him up.

"Woah, woah! Easy," Dad soothed, catching him before he could hit the pavement.

Hawkeye groaned, sinking down the rest of the way. Crap, Winny was going to kill him for bleeding on his car…

"I will shoot him if he tries anything," Dad said.

He'd said that out loud?

"Yes, yes you did," Winchester said, pushing Snape into the backseat. "I'll shoot you after you're out of the hospital."

Hospital… "Longmore," he said. "Is he…?"

"He's alive," Dad said, drawing him into a hug. Hawkeye flinched away when he tried to look at his shoulder.

"Why do you care?" Winchester asked, slamming the door shut in Snape's face with far more force than was necessary. Aw, he does care. He doesn't get that angry for just anyone. "He shot you."

He lifted a heavy hand to gesture at his feebly bandaged shoulder. "He tried to protect me… sort of."

Dad caught his hand before it could smack down against the pavement. Winny knelt beside him, peeling back the chamois and shirt. Hawkeye gritted his teeth against a moan, turning his head away from the detective, that heavy hand clutching Dad's arm. All of the pain that had managed to subside came flaring back full force as Winchester tore Hawkeye's sleeve off, ripped it in half, and pressed the two halves against his bullet wounds.

"Easy, easy," Dad soothed. "Is an ambulance on its way?"

"Yeah," B.J. answered. Hawkeye sucked in a breath, forcing himself to look up. The Blueberry had finally reached them and its passengers had bailed, B.J.'s door still wide open.

"Beej!" he exclaimed, forcing brightness past his slurring words. "Look a' that, you left your car wide open for stealing for me."

"I did what?" He glanced back at the Blueberry, visibly resisting the urge to run back and close the door. "You know what, it doesn't matter. You good?"

Hawkeye flashed a thumbs-up. "There's a hole in my shoulder and my life rests in Winny's hands. I'm doin' great."

Margaret crouched beside him, cupping his cheek in her hand and offering up a reassuring smile. "You're safe now, Hawkeye. You're safe."

Leaned up against Winchester's car, propped up by his dad, guarded by the two detectives, and with B.J. starting to lecture him about the "stolen" clothes to distract him from the pain – or was he actually being serious? – Hawkeye smiled back. "I know."


A/N: So next week is the last chapter, but I don't have it finished and I just realized I'm actually leaving for vacation next Wednesday, so idk when it'll actually get posted. Could be early, could be on time, could be late. I'll do my best to get it posted before I go, but I've got a lot of fic commitments to finish up before NaNoWriMo starts, so sorry in advance if it is late