His lungs screamed as he tried to gasp through the pain in his chest. Every inhalation burned, and there just wasn't enough air no matter how rapidly his chest moved. Blindly, he grasped at his side, feeling his fingers wrap around something fleshy and solid. His other hand locked around the neckline of his shirt, tugging at the garment as though it would ease the pressure crushing his sternum. He felt a sudden bolt of panic as he couldn't pull in another breath. He tried to tighten his grip on the person next to him, but there was no strength in his hand, and it dropped away. Muffled, he registered the sound of screaming, and something shuddered around him… but it was growing rapidly hazy… and he couldn't….

…..

When he was aware again, it felt like something was crushing his chest. There were frantic voices all around, and something was jammed chokingly down his throat. Disoriented and terrified, he thrashed to the side, trying to lift his arms to clear the blockage from his airway… but his arms wouldn't move…

The voices overlapped each other, hands moved above him, their shadows imprinted on his eyelids. He forced his hands still as the pressure in his chest slowly started to ease. However, a fresh pain was increasing exponentially in its place. His hands curled in fists, clenching thin cloth in a white-knuckled grip.

And then he felt like he was dropping, and everything faded out again.

Gus and Henry sat side by side, watching the still form on the bed.

Eight hours of surgery.

The path of the bullet through Shawn's chest had caused a terrifying amount of damage. Entering between the second and third ribs, it had nicked against the second rib, sending it careening through a lung and across the surface of the heart before finally exiting out the back, just to the left of the spine.

And now the two men had been sitting in that room, filling the silence with their own breathing, for four hours. Shawn hadn't moved once.

Twice, Gus had lifted his eyes to Henry's face, searching for something to say… but there was nothing… nothing…

And then his gaze was riveted to the unconscious man before him… to the long fingered hand lying on the bedding… the hand that, he swore, had just twitched. And suddenly, Henry was standing, leaning over the young man, his hands cradling pale cheeks.

"Shawn?"

Gus leaned forward, staring at the slack face, the dry lips, the blinking lids… he stood quickly, holding his breath.

Shawn's bleary eyes seemed to be struggling to focus, rolling around, squinting in the muted light. Unaware, Gus placed a hand on his friend's leg near the ankle. Next to him, Henry's eyes were locked on the young man's face.

"Come on son, wake up kiddo."

Shawn's eyes blinked again, and his head drooped to the side. Thankfully they'd removed the respirator earlier, so he was able to pull in a deep breath, earning an instant wince. Henry smoothed the hair off his forehead, smiling as Shawn's gaze finally seemed to clear.

"Hey." said the older man, resting his calloused hand on the young man's cheek above the oxygen mask.

Shawn's head tilted back, then turned, finally catching sight of his friend, still standing at the foot of the bed. He studied the other man for a moment, and then, suddenly, he smiled.

Gus's face broke instantly into a wide grin, and his hand tightened around Shawn's ankle as he breathed out in relief. "Welcome back…"