Chapter 9 – You can't runaway forever (but there's nothing wrong with getting a good head start)

"Come on, Shawn", Henry mumbled between two breaths. "Breathe!"

Lassiter still had his fingers on Shawn's throat, controlling his pulse, and each time Henry blew a breath into Shawn's lungs he saw his son's chest rise and fall, but nothing else happened. Shawn didn't start spitting out seawater, he didn't start coughing, and worst of all, he didn't start breathing on his own.

Henry completely lost sight of everything around him. He was barely aware of Lassiter, and that only in case the head detective noticed something off about Shawn's heartbeat, but he was no longer aware of Juliet and Eric standing slightly to the side. All that his thoughts were focussed on was his son, and the fact that Shawn was not breathing. And if he didn't start breathing again soon…he'd start breathing again. Period. There was no alternative, and he wouldn't even start thinking about it.

Henry didn't know for how long he had been trying to resuscitate Shawn when there were suddenly two men falling to their knees beside him, starting to unpack equipment and throwing out questions about what had happened. Henry heard Lassiter's voice answer and focussed on blowing the next breath into his son's lungs.

When Henry came up again, there was a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him away.

"Sir, we'll take over from here."

And before Henry knew what was happening, the two EMTs were bent over Shawn, continuing Henry's attempts to resuscitate Shawn, leaving Henry with nothing to do but stare. Shawn looked thoroughly drenched, and for the first time since pulling him out of the ocean Henry noticed the torn shirt and the numerous cuts and scratches along his hands and arms. He must have been tossed around and against those poles badly. Especially that last wave that had thrown him against that support beam had been bad. Shawn was lying on his back, but Henry saw the blood in his son's hair, on the back of Shawn's head. Another hand tugging on his right arm brought Henry out of his stupor. He allowed Lassiter to pull him to his feet.

"Another ambulance is on its way, you need to have your arm looked after."

Confused, Henry looked down his arm to figure out what Lassiter was talking about. Only when he saw the torn sleeve of his shirt did he remember that bullet grazing him earlier. He hadn't even thought about it anymore. There was no hurry to have this looked after, the wound had already stopped bleeding.

Juliet and Eric were standing a few feet to their right. Juliet had taken off her still relatively dry jacket and had it draped around Eric's shoulders, but still the boy was shaking from the cold and exhaustion. There were tears running down his face as he stared down at the EMTs working on Shawn, but he was standing a slight distance away from Juliet as if refusing to accept comfort from her.

Slowly, Henry walked over to the boy.

"Are you all right?"

Eric shrugged and nodded at the same time, not taking his eyes off Shawn. Henry could see that the boy was under shock, and he crouched down slightly so that he was on eye level with Eric. Then he put a hand on the boy's chin and turned his head slightly.

"Are you all right, Eric?"

This time Eric only nodded, without the shrugging.

"Good. As soon as the other ambulance is here, you're going to the hospital to get yourself checked out. And you need to get out of those drenched clothes."
Eric stared at Henry wordlessly, looking for all the world as if Henry was speaking a different language. His trembling lips started to form words, but it took a moment until his voice caught up with it.

"It's my fault", he finally brought out.

Henry shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"Yes. It's my fault. Shawn's hurt and it's my fault."

Eric bit his lip, but he couldn't help the sob that escaped. Henry reacted the only way he could think of. He put a hand on the back of Eric's head and pulled the boy close. Eric didn't struggle, he fell against Henry as if merely the task of standing upright was costing him too much strength, and started sobbing into Henry's chest. Henry wrapped his arms tightly around the shaking boy and simply held him.

"It's not your fault, Eric. And it's going to be all right. Everything's going to be all right, you'll see."

Henry didn't know where the confidence in his words came from, because he was certainly not feeling it. Over the top of Eric's head, his eyes were still focussed on his son's body and the EMTs working on him. Was it only his imagination, or were their movements getting more frantic? Suddenly, one of the medics moved position, tore open Shawn's shirt and started chest compressions.

Henry's heart made a soul-tearing leap in his chest. This couldn't be happening. Not to Shawn. They had gotten him out of the water, this just couldn't happen. Not now.

Henry let go of Eric and started hurrying over to his son's side.

Suddenly, the sound of rattling coughs broke the silence on the beach.

"That's it, that's it, just spit it out", one of the EMTs was saying as the two men carefully turned Shawn to the side so that he wouldn't choke on the water he was in the process of coughing up.

For a moment, Henry thought that his knees would buckle beneath him. Shawn was breathing again, that was a good sign, right? It meant that his son would be all right, it simply had to.

In a flurry of activity, the EMTs fixed an oxygen mask on Shawn's face and put on a neck brace. The way they were careful of moving Shawn around told Henry that they were worried about a possible back injury, and he felt his worry rising again. Being slammed against those wooden poles could do quite a lot of damage, and from the looks of it Shawn had been slammed against them repeatedly. And hard. Henry didn't know for how long he'd be able to stand this rollercoaster of worry and temporary relief. Only Shawn could do that to him. Only Shawn.

Once Shawn was strapped in and ready for transport, the EMTs started moving him off the beach.

"Henry, do you want to ride to the hospital with him?", Juliet asked.

Truth be told, there was nothing Henry wanted more. He didn't fancy letting Shawn out of his sight for just one minute right now. But then his eyes fell on Eric, still standing right next to him and looking every bit as if he was about to collapse any moment now, and Henry couldn't bring himself to leave the scared boy alone with the police officers right now. It wouldn't take long for everything that had happened that day to catch up with the boy, and once it did, it might not be good if he found himself solely in the company of the police officers he was so afraid of. He looked at Juliet.

"Could you go with him? I'll wait for the other ambulance with Eric."

Juliet nodded and quickly followed the EMTs over towards the road. Lassiter looked after the little procession for a moment, then turned back towards Henry.

"All right, let's go up to the road. We can just as well wait for the ambulance there."

As they set off, Henry for the first time really noticed that reinforcements had arrived some time ago. With all that had been going on, he had felt as if they were the only people on the beach. He saw Garner being put into the back of a squad-car, one of many that were suddenly standing on Shoreline Road. Just as they reached the road, the ambulance carrying Shawn took off towards the hospital. Henry gently led Eric over towards Gus' car and sat him down in the driver's seat while they waited for the second ambulance to arrive.

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Shawn had the single most horrible, skull-splitting, brain-drilling, nauseating headache of his entire life. He didn't know where he was or what had happened, but he was sure that this headache was number two on the all-time headache ranking. It even pushed the new year's hangover of 1999 onto a far-off third place. It was a close race, but the murder headache after the waterslide-incident in 1989 still topped the list. That one would lead the all-time headache ranking forever, Gus could confirm that. And Gus should know, his thick skull had played a vital part in how Shawn had acquired the mother of all headaches in the first place.

Slowly, afraid that any light might render him constantly blind or increase the pounding in his head, if that was even possible, Shawn opened first one eye, then the other.

After eighteen years of rule, the waterslide-headache gave up the first place willingly, and quickly, because even the dim light in the room Shawn was in made his head pound as if it was about to spontaneously combust any second now.

Shawn suppressed a groan. A short look had been enough.

He was in a hospital. Just great. With no recollection of how he had ended here. Even better.

"Shawn?"

And his Dad was here. Well, that was just the icing on the cake. If he was in hospital and his Dad was here, a lecture was unavoidable. And with his headache, Shawn doubted that he could take a lecture now.

His father moved into his line of vision and suddenly a lot of things started to feel extremely strange to Shawn. There was an oxygen mask on his face, which he found mildly disturbing, but even more confusing was that he found himself lying on his right side. With a frown, he slowly brought up his left hand (not a very good idea, moving it meant pain, he had to keep that in mind) and tried to pull down the oxygen mask. A hand softly reached for his wrist and pulled his hand away slowly.

"No. You will keep that mask on for the rest of the night, no discussion about it."

"Why…", Shawn started to speak, not having enough air to form an entire sentence right now. His voice was muffled through the mask, but Henry understood what his son wanted to ask.

"Because you weren't breathing when Carlton and I pulled you out of the ocean, Shawn. So as I said, no discussion about the mask."

Ocean? When had he been in the ocean? He hadn't been to the beach in quite a while, the weather had been awful. Unless of course you counted chasing Eric and that cop down the pier…

Eric!

As that thought hit home Shawn tried to sit up, and it wasn't his wisest choice he had ever made. Henry's hands on his shoulders immediately pushed him down into the mattress again, but even moving a little had raised Shawn's pain levels to degrees he had previously thought impossible.

"Stay still, Shawn. You're not supposed to be moving around, much less getting up. The doctor said you'd probably be sore all over."

Shawn tried to catch his father's eyes, still struggling to form words underneath the oxygen mask. Realising that he couldn't understand his son, and that he couldn't read his son's lips under the fogged up plastic, Henry rolled his eyes and reached for the oxygen mask.

"Only for talking, this will go back on soon."

He pulled the oxygen mask down below Shawn's chin.

"Eric? He all right?"

Henry nodded. "Yes, he is. Thanks to you. He was a bit shaken up, a bit too cold, but nothing serious. The doctors want to keep him overnight for observation, though, to make sure that the little swim you two took didn't cause any lasting damage. He's over in the paediatric ward."

"That cop? I heard a shot."

Unconsciously, Henry raised his hand to his upper arm, covering the bandage underneath his sleeve, and Shawn's eyes widened as he caught the gesture. "You're hurt?"

Henry shook his head. "Nothing serious, just a scratch. That bastard got off a shot, but he's behind bars now. You've taken the brunt of the damage."

Yes, maybe this would be the right time to have some questions answered. Like the question where in the world all this pain came from. Surely there was a limit to how much pain one single person could be in. Shawn was fairly sure that there was a law against that much pain. "What's wrong?"

Henry looked at Shawn for a long moment, then he sighed. "Fortunately, not as much as could have gone wrong. Aside from the fact that you weren't breathing for a while, which I might add is something I could very well have lived without experiencing, you collided with those support beams one time too often. You have a mild concussion and a nasty gash on the back of your head. It was pure luck that you didn't break your left shoulder. Be glad you're not a left-handed, because your shoulder is one big bruise right now. Moving it will be painful for a while. Bruised ribs on the left side, fortunately none cracked or broken. Else, you're covered in cuts and bruises from colliding with every single support beam underneath that pier. They took about a pound of wood in splinters out of you. Your back looks pretty bad, that's why you're lying on your side. Get used to it, that'll be your sleeping position for the next couple of days. The doctors say it's a small wonder that you didn't break even one single bone. But right now, you're probably the world's biggest living bruise."

Shawn frowned at his father's words, trying to take all of it in. "And Eric is all right?"

Henry sighed. "Yes. Compared to you, he's in pristine condition. You took the brunt of all the impacts."

Shawn grimaced. "Not deliberately. I mean, I would have, but it was too dark to even see those support poles. I didn't know where the next one would come up, it was pure luck that he didn't get hit." He frowned again, still processing the information about his injuries. "So it's just a concussion?"

"Just a concussion? Didn't you listen to what I just said?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Yes. Bruises, cuts, pain, yadda yadda. I can live with that. But if I have just a concussion, I can get myself discharged."

Henry crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're going to stay the night for observation. And once the doctor has examined you again, we'll see about whether or not you can be discharged."

Shawn looked around the room, for the first time taking in the single light burning on the nightstand in the otherwise darkened room.

"What time is it?"

Henry checked his watch. "Nearly one a.m."

"Why are you here so late? Aren't there visiting hours?"

Henry chuckled. "Yes. And as the nurses reminded me about them, I politely refused to go."

"How many nurses ended up in tears when you did that?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "I just told them I wouldn't go. In a determined manner. They didn't ask twice. I wanted to wait until you woke up."

Shawn shifted uncomfortably on the bed – also not a good idea because even the slight movement caused discomfort. His father was being too nice. And that was never good, because normally if he was nice, the explosion afterwards only got worse.

Henry watched his son shift around slightly with a frown on his face.

"What is it?"

"I'm waiting for the outburst."

"What outburst?"

Shawn sighed. "Come on, Dad. Don't tell me you don't know that we've got a little routine going on here. I end up in hospital for some reason, you come visit me and start yelling. You know, about being reckless, about faking to be a psychic, about my life and choices in general."

Henry leaned back in his chair and watched his son with a slight smile on his face. "No outburst today. And no yelling."

Not thinking about it, Shawn tried to rise up onto his elbows again. Again, the feeling that his whole body was sore stopped him before he came very far.

"Don't tempt me Shawn. You try to sit up again and I'll might just rethink the idea about the yelling."

Shawn frowned. "But why aren't you chewing me out for what happened?"

Henry shrugged. "Because there's no reason to chew you out for anything. You did good today, Shawn."

Shawn sank more deeply into his pillow. "Now I know this is a hallucination."

Henry smiled. "I still do think that this case would have been far more easy to handle if you could simply give the police tips without having to hide where you really got the information from. But that doesn't have anything to do with what happened last night. Eric was tossed over that railing and you went in after him. And you did good, because if you hadn't done that, Eric would be dead now. I could have done without all the excitement before and afterwards, but I'm proud of what you did."

Shawn's eyes widened. "Now that's a first."

Henry shook his head. "No, actually it isn't. And now go ahead and sleep some more, kiddo. I'll wake you in two hours, you know the drill."

Shawn sighed. "Great. Concussion checks."

"Finally stop getting concussions, then you can sleep through the nights again. And now try to get some more rest. Gus was here earlier, he said he'd be back tomorrow morning. And he wasn't too excited about sitting at my house all evening, waiting for one of us to call. You'll definitely want to be well-rested for that."

Shawn was tired, that was true, and while he still contemplated the pros and cons of going back to sleep, his eyes drifted close and he was fast asleep again. He didn't even notice that Henry slipped the oxygen mask back on his face and straightened the blanket before he settled more comfortably in his chair for the next two hours.

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Shawn had never gone to college or studied medicine, but he knew that normally, doctors went to college for years before they were let loose on patients. He had the strong suspicion that the doctor who had signed his release had skipped the college part of his education and had taken a two-week night class instead. Shawn couldn't believe that the guy had not only allowed him to go home – which had been part of the plan – but had also allowed him to go home without prescribing any painkillers. That hadn't been part of Shawn's plan. Take some Tylenol and try not to move too much. Yeah, right. Shawn certainly wouldn't move too much, because moving meant excruciating pain. And it didn't matter whether he moved his entire body or just a single finger. Life wasn't fair.

His Dad had dutifully woken Shawn up every two hours during the night, but he had gone for breakfast when the doctor had started preparing Shawn's release papers. So now Shawn was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to muster up enough energy to get up and move down into the cafeteria to search for his father.

Sitting was one of the two positions that worked for Shawn right now. The other was lying on his right side, but he had done that for the entire night, he needed a change. Standing made him feel like an old man because his bruised ribs were wrapped up tightly and his back and left shoulder were messed up badly enough so that he couldn't stretch out completely, which made Shawn feel like Quasimodo whenever he tried to stand up straight.

He had actually gotten quite a shock when he had seen himself in the bathroom mirror earlier. His Dad hadn't been joking when he had called him the world's biggest living bruise. His back wasn't too bad, it was more scratched than bruised, but his shoulder was a tasteful and extensive arrangement of different shades of blue and purple.

The bad thing, Shawn only now realised, was that he wasn't just hurting in one place. If he had a broken rib, he could avoid moving in ways which would aggravate the pain. But if he tried to avoid stressing his ribs, the movements hurt his back or shoulder. Not to mention his head, which was still pounding away happily.

The door to his room opened and Shawn half-expected his father to come through. Slowly, he got up from the bed, grimacing as his sore ribs protested the movement. But it wasn't Henry who came into the hospital room, it was Juliet and Gus. Seeing the pained expression on his face, Juliet immediately hurried to his side.

"Are you all right, Shawn? Do I need to call a doctor?"

Shawn shook his head, slowly so as not to aggravate his headache. "No, it's all right. They released me already. Hey Gus."
"They released you?", Gus asked, and undertone of disbelief in his voice. "No way, you look like hell."

"Why thanks, Gus. It's good to see you, too."

"Don't expect me to be sympathetic, Shawn. I've been stuck at your father's place for the entire evening, not knowing what was going on. At some point late in the night your father finally calls me over to the hospital where I get to know that you nearly drowned. I didn't exactly have a fun-night, either."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "That sounds more dramatic than it actually was, Gus."

Juliet shook her head. "No. It was far worse than it sounded. You should have seen your Dad."

That Shawn was actually glad about missing. Seeing his father freak out wasn't exactly a favourite pastime activity of his.

"So, anything new on the case?"

Juliet smiled. "Actually, yes. Garner confessed, to everything. He was tipping Griggs off about customs controls. Seems like Griggs was still dealing with stolen goods, mostly art and sculptures. Those were hidden amongst his pottery imports. Garner says Griggs initially approached him about it, but there's no way for us to make sure. It's been going on for nearly eighteen months now, but Garner said suddenly Griggs no longer wanted to pay him. Threatened to rat him out to Internal Affairs if Garner didn't give the tips for free. That night in the warehouse, it escalated. Garner said he never intended to shoot Griggs, but they fought and Griggs came towards him in a threatening manner, he reacted instinctively and pulled his gun." She shrugged. "We'll have to wait for Eric's statement to see if that adds up. But when we released Eric's picture, Garner realised that he was a potential witness. He chased him down and tried to cover his tracks."

But Shawn shook his head. "I doubt that Eric has seen anything. But it doesn't make sense, Jules. If Garner thought the only thing tying him to the murder was Eric's statement, why should he confess to the murder now? Why didn't he make out a crackpot story that would put Eric in a bad light? After all he is a cop, Eric's just an eleven year old runaway, and there's no physical proof so far. So why the confession?"

Juliet's smile grew wider. "You haven't seen Carlton last night. He had no change of clothes at the station, and wearing a pair of soaking wet pants and one of McNabb's t-shirts definitely did nothing to improve his mood. I caught him glaring at me and very nearly confessed to borrowing his stapler and not returning it. Carlton didn't plan on leaving that interrogation room without a confession, and he got it. It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen."

And Shawn had missed it. Though it was probably for the better. Lassiter had this strange habit of letting out his bad mood on Shawn, so maybe it was really the best that he hadn't been there during the worst mood of the year.

"You're here to get a statement from Eric?", Shawn asked Juliet.

She shook her head. "No, his parents are going to bring him over to the station for that later. He should be released soon."

Shawn didn't like the sound of that. Not after seeing how terrified Eric had been of them. "Are they with him now?"

Juliet shrugged. "I don't know. I know they were brought over here last evening, your father and I were in the waiting room when they arrived. But I saw them leave later on, so I don't know if they're back yet or not."

"They left?"

Juliet nodded. "Yes, around the same time I did. I saw them in the garage and I remember thinking that it was strange. After all, their kid had been missing for over three weeks."

"Maybe the mother just went to get some clothes from the hotel", Gus threw in.

"Maybe." Juliet sighed. "But I'm not so sure. There was something…off about them."

Shawn picked up on the tone of her voice. "What do you mean, off?"

"I don't know, it's hard to describe. When I first met them, it was obvious that on some level, the mother was worried about Eric. But that stepfather…well, he didn't seem all too worried. Now, Eric isn't his child, so I think it might be because of that, sad as it is. But he's strange. Really strange. There's something about him that just doesn't feel right."

"What?"

Juliet shrugged. "Hard to put into words. He's extremely handsome. One of those guys everybody looks at. Athletic, outdoorsy type, dazzling smile. And whenever he said something during the Chief's briefing, you should have seen the mother. It was as if she forgot she had a son at all. I don't know. I got the feeling that whenever her husband is around, her priorities are somewhat screwed up."

Shawn thought for a moment. "All right, could you do me a favour? Could you stay here for a moment in case my Dad comes back to fetch me?"

"And where are you going?", Gus asked, stepping slightly into his friend's way.

"I'm going to visit Eric." He looked Gus straight in the eyes, hoping that his friend would understand. "There's something I need to ask him before his parents come back."

And Gus understood, because he nodded immediately and took a step to the side. "Do you need any help getting there?"

Shawn shook his head. "Thanks, I'll manage. I'm like a perpetual motion machine, I only need to get moving. Once I do, the pain will go away."

"Shawn, that's not what a perpetual motion machine is about. A perpetual motion machine is a closed system of motion that puts out more energy than is put into it, which isn't possible because it's in violation to Newton's First Law of Motion. It has nothing at all to do with you being sore all over."

Shawn stared at Gus for a moment, then he nodded. "All right. Note to self: buy dictionary. English-Geek Speak. Quickly. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go find the paediatric ward."

"Third floor", Juliet supplied from behind Gus.

"Thanks you, Juliet. See Gus, that's how it's done. Two one-syllable words, and already the lady conveyed far more useful information than you did in your little speech about Darwin and his law-thingy. Catch up with you later guys."

And Shawn waddled more than walked out of the room. Gus stared after him for a moment, at a loss for words.

"It's Newton!", he finally called after him, then he sank down in a chair. "And to think I was actually worried about the guy just a few hours back. And now he's already driving me up the walls again."

Juliet chuckled and pulled up another chair beside Gus'.

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So it might have nothing to do with Newton and whatever he had discovered about motion (and clearly, the guy had had too much time on his hands. Gravity and motion? Come on, that Newton quite obviously didn't have a life), but once Shawn got into motion the pain lessened. It didn't vanish completely, but it didn't hurt as badly as the first few steps had done.

All right, so he looked silly waddling along the corridor at first, but it got better and by the time he reached the elevator at least he no longer looked as if he was about to lay an egg.

He got Eric's room number from the nurse at the duty station and walked down the corridor. The door to Eric's room was closed, so Shawn knocked, and when no answer was forthcoming, opened the door a crack and peered in.

"Eric?"

Something fell to the floor inside, and Shawn quickly opened the door all the way and hurried into the room. Well, hurried as fast as his current level of pain would allow. At first glance, the room seemed empty, but as Shawn stepped up to the bed he found what he had been looking for.

Eric was standing in front of the wardrobe, fully dressed, backpack in hand, staring down with wide eyes at the remains of his breakfast tray which had fallen to the floor. It didn't take long for Shawn to understand what the boy had been about to do. With a sigh, Shawn limped the rest of the way towards the bed and sat down on it.

"Hey Eric."

"Shawn!" The haunted and shocked look on Eric's face was replaced by surprise, and even a slight portion of joy. "I…it was…are you all right? The doctors told me you were all right, I was just about to come down and visit you."

Shawn smiled slightly and shook his head. "No, you weren't. Eric, I'm not stupid. I know that you were about to run away again."

Eric bit his lip and nervously looked down at the floor. Shawn only hoped that he wouldn't decide to bolt, because he was definitely not in the condition to chase after him now.

Shawn sighed and patted the bed beside him. "Sit down for a moment, will you?"

Hesitantly, Eric did, not meeting Shawn's eyes. Shawn put a hand on Eric's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"All right, first things first. How are you doing?"

Eric shrugged. "Fine. I'm fine. I just got wet. You're the one who stopped breathing."

Shawn sighed. "Yeah, I can imagine that was a bit scary."

Eric shrugged again. "It was. I mean, you nearly died and it was my fault."

"Hey." Shawn reached out and gently pulled Eric's chin around so that he was looking at him. He waited patiently until Eric's eyes finally met his. "What happened was not your fault, Eric. And I'm fine, so there's no need for you to get worked up about it."

"It's not that easy."

Shawn squeezed Eric's shoulder again. "You'll get there. Now, do you want to tell me why you wanted to run again?"

Eric swallowed hard and bit his lip again. "They're releasing me today."

"I know. And now you're afraid of going home with your mother and stepfather again."

Eric got up from the bed, but instead of running out of the room as Shawn feared, he just stood there, gnawing on his lower lip. "I can't go back. I just can't, Shawn."
"Because of your stepfather."

Eric looked at Shawn, expression shocked. Shawn sighed. This was where it got difficult.

"My Dad told me that your stepfather is hitting you."

"I…it's…he can't just…"

Shawn stretched out his hand and gently pulled Eric closer. "He didn't rat out on you, Eric. But he knows that for as long as you're keeping that kind of thing a secret, it's difficult to help you."

"Nobody can help me!", Eric yelled. "Nobody ever helped me! As soon as I'm out of here, I'll have to go back to them, and nobody cares about what will happen to me then!"

"I care", Shawn said softly. Eric looked at him, startled, as if he couldn't quite believe that he had heard right. But after a moment he shook his head.

"Nobody will believe me, Shawn. Nobody. Everybody loves Stan. Everybody shops at is electronics store, he's always volunteering to help out on school trips and he's the soccer coach of all our neighbourhood-kids. Everybody thinks he's a saint, nobody will believe me!"

"Have you ever tried?"

"What?"

Shawn put an arm around Eric's shoulder and pulled him closer to the bed again. "You told my Dad that he was hitting you, and my Dad believed you. Gus and I believe you. So what makes you think that the police won't believe you?"

Eric shook his head. "I just can't do that, Shawn."

"So you'd rather run away again."

"It's the best for everybody."

Shawn shook his head. "No, it isn't. It's not the best for you, and that's what's most important to me. It's too dangerous for you on the street, and you're ruining your whole future with it. You need to go to school, you need a regular life."
"I don't have no regular life."

"Listen Eric, I know that running away seems like such an easy solution, but it isn't. It makes things a whole lot more difficult for you than they should be, that's all. You can try to run away from the bad things in your life, but that doesn't make them go away. And sooner or later, they catch up with you. They always do. You just can't run away forever. There comes the point when you have to face up to the things you're running away from."

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but Shawn squeezed his shoulder again and shook his head.

"No. I know that it seems scary, and that you think you can't do it, but I know you can. And right now you have people who'll see this through with you. You're not alone in this, Eric. I'll be with you for the entire way. But you have to do this, for yourself."

Eric was struggling to hold back tears, Shawn could see that. He was scared but didn't dare to let it show, but it was obvious that he couldn't keep the tears at bay for much longer.

"Hey, come here."

Eric didn't resist as Shawn put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close. Bonelessly, Eric leaned into him, buried his head against Shawn's shoulder and cried. It was the bad shoulder, but Shawn didn't say a word. He knew that all this was embarrassing enough for Eric, he could stand a little pain if it helped the boy.

Eric didn't sob, or fall apart, but the silent crying seemed to help to alleviate at least a little of the tension inside of him, which was far too much for an eleven year-old boy, anyway. Finally, Eric drew a deep breath, though he didn't move his head away from Shawn's shoulder.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to trust me. And to have a little courage, nothing else. Downstairs in my room, there's a woman called Juliet O'Hara. She's a very good friend of mine, and I trust her. I know that if you tell her the truth about your stepfather, she will help you."

Eric raised his head. "She's that policewoman who came to your apartment", he deduced.

Shawn nodded. "Yes, she is. And she's going to help you. You only have to have the courage to make the first step."

Eric stared down at his hands. "Can you…I mean, will you come with me?"

Shawn nodded. "Sure I will. I can't do it for you, but I'll be there the entire time."

Hesitantly, Eric nodded. "All right."

Shawn smiled and squeezed the boy's shoulder again. "Good. Then let's go. And don't mind me waddling alongside you, I'm a little sore. Just pretend I'm practicing for a comedy routine."
That at least served to bring a small smile to Eric's face. Not much, but it was a start. Shawn kept his arm around Eric's shoulder as they walked out of the hospital room and towards the elevator.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Henry stared down into his takeout cup of coffee, completely lost in thought. It didn't help that he had not slept the previous night, but even with sleep deprivation he knew he had to do something.

And actually, there weren't much choices he had. It was all only a question of whether or not he wanted to compromise himself. But if that was what it took, then so it had to be. Not really much need to think about it.

Henry drained his coffee and pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jacket. He selected a number from his address book and hit the send button. It was picked up on the second ring.

"Vick."

"Karen, it's Henry."
"Henry, how good to hear from you. How is Shawn, has there been any change since last night?"

"He's fine. They're releasing him this morning. Actually, I should probably go up soon to give him a ride home."

There was a moment's pause. "Why are you calling, Henry? Anything I can help you with?"

Henry sighed. "I wanted to ask you for a favour, Karen. A personal favour."

"Well, you know better than anybody else what is within my power and what's not, so just shoot ahead."

"I want you to pull Eric Robertson's medical records."

Another pause. "We already have those, Henry. It's standard procedure to add those to the file of a missing person, in case they show up and need medical treatment. But you know that, so what is it you're looking for?"

"Hospital stays."

There was the sound of paper shifting in the background, then Karen came back on the line. "Only two. He had his appendix removed when he was five, and then a year later he had an allergy test done after he came to the hospital with a horrible rash. Turns out he's allergic to raspberries. That's it."

Henry thought for a moment.

"Henry, are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry. I was thinking."

"Is this what you were looking for?"

Henry sighed. "No. Listen, I think you should contact the other hospitals in the LA-area. Search for treatments under Holly Robertson's maiden name, treatments that were paid in cash and don't show up on the regular medical record."

Karen was silent for a long moment. Henry knew that she had been a cop long enough to know the intention behind Henry's request.

"I'd need an incentive to do that, the hospitals won't give out those records without a good reason. The doctors who examined him yesterday saw no signs of abuse."

"Yeah, because he had been away from home for three weeks."

Karen's sigh carried loudly through the speaker. "Henry, let's stop beating about the bush and come to the point. What gives you reason to believe that he boy is being abused at home?"

Henry sighed. There was no going around it, he'd figure out how to explain his own involvement later. "He told me."

Another moment of silence. "When exactly did he tell you that, Henry? Yesterday evening, while you were watching the EMTs trying to resuscitate Shawn? Because to my best knowledge, the two of you didn't meet before that."

"We did. It's a longer story, Karen, and if you want to I'll gladly explain everything, but please pull those records first. We should make sure that it's safe for him to go home before we send him off, that's all I'm saying."

After a moment, Karen sighed. "All right. But I want you to come over to the station later, and I will get the full explanation then."

"Deal. Thank you, Karen."

"Don't thank me too early, Henry. It's not yet said that we'll find anything."

And she hung up. But as he put his phone back into his pocket, Henry was fairly sure that they'd find something. In his experience, abusive parents who got away with it for too long at some point started thinking that they were never going to be found out. And that's mostly when they started leaving evidence in their wake. And if there was one thing Henry was absolutely sure of, then it was that Eric hadn't been lying to him.
Phone back in his pocket, Henry went back into the hospital. Shawn's paperwork should be finished now, time to give the kid a ride home.