"Ah kid", he whispered. He'd walked into the room where they had Shawn and had stopped dead at the first sight of his son. He could feel himself sway in reaction, the arm of the doctor the only thing keeping him up.

"I'm sorry – it's always distressing to see a loved one like this", the doctor told him. "But all those machines are keeping him alive and helping his body repair itself."

Henry swallowed and nodded. He knew that – he'd been in enough hospitals and dealt with enough injuries in the course of his career to understand what the doctor was saying. It didn't make any difference though – not when it was his son who was lying there, looking like death.

He finally managed to unglue his feet from the floor and stumbled forward until he was standing next to the bed. He wanted to reach out and hold him – but he was afraid to so much as even touch his son. He didn't think there was a spot on him that wasn't bruised or injured or covered by a bandage or a cast. "God", he said, rubbing his hand over his face.

"It's okay to touch him carefully", the doctor said gently. "The touch or the voice of a loved one often makes a big difference to patients like this.

Henry nodded again and looked around until he spotted the single chair in the room. He pulled it towards the bed and then lowered himself down, surprised at how old and stiff he felt. He let his eyes roam over the hurt body of his child and he finally reached out a hand and laid it gently on his uninjured shoulder. "I'm here Shawn", he said quietly. "I'm gonna stay right here so you don't worry about a thing. Just rest and get better."

The doctor watched for a few more seconds and then with a small smile turned and left. He stopped briefly at the nurses' station outside the glass walls of the room. "Let him stay", he instructed. "I think the young man needs to have his father with him.

The nurse nodded in response – they all knew what had happened to him. Normally visits in the Critical Care Ward were restricted to just a few minutes at a time, but in this case they all agreed it was better to have someone with the injured man.

Henry sat and watched as the machines pumped oxygen into his son's lungs, as tubes filled him with fluids and antibiotics and other medicines to help him fight infection and heal. Other machines helped clean his blood and allow his kidneys to start working. Right now Shawn's life seemed to be dependent on all the marvels of modern technology but Henry knew that, in reality, his life depended on a miracle.

"You can do it son", he said softly. "You're tough and you'll get through this. There are too many people counting on you for you to let go. Gus – well, he's really worried about you. He's here – in the hospital – just waiting for you to be all better so you can go get some jerk chicken." He continued to watch the young man who so often had frustrated him – and yet who he loved so much.

And Chief Vick – she needs you son. Her solve rates have been way up since you started working for her and you've become a valuable resource. Hell, more than that you're part of her team. She wants you to get better Shawn." He slowly started to move his hand, carefully and gently stroking his son's shoulder.

"And Lassiter – well, he pretends that he can't stand you, but we all know that's not true. You should have seen him when we were trying to find you. I thought he was going to bite everyone's head off. He was ready to go out on his own and find the – and find you. He may still seem like he's – what do you call him? – Mr. Grumpypants – but he considers you a friend Shawn – and he respects you. And then there's that young Detective – Detective O'Hara. If I were you I'd ask her out Shawn. She seems like she's pretty special." He stopped for a moment, wondering briefly if his son would ever get a chance to meet someone, marry and have a child of his own.

The machines continued to 'woosh' and 'beep' and 'click' all the while Henry talked. And during it all Shawn didn't move a muscle. His face looked gray and – and slack. Others might have said relaxed but that implied a positive state and Shawn looked anything but relaxed. It was as if the spark that was his son – the sometimes childish, always impious spirit that was Shawn Spencer was gone. In its place was the shadow of the man – and it was a shadow that was quickly dimming.

"Don't you dare die Shawn", his father commanded, as if his voice would, of itself, hold his son back from a journey he was too young to take. "You promised me you would help clean the garage." He hissed a breath and closed his eyes. "Why the hell would you say that?" he asked himself. "Shawn hates cleaning the garage! If there's anything to make him -" He stopped suddenly, cursing at himself and the crazy man who had done this and at the world that would allow these things to happen.

"Look", he leaned forward, "you don't have to clean the garage, okay? I just want you to get better so that – so that we can spend some more time together, okay kiddo? I know we seem to spend all our time arguing or fighting but – but you're important to me, okay? And then there's your Mom. She'll kill me if I let anything happen to you."

Henry grimaced slightly. Uh oh – now Shawn was going to wonder where his mother was. "She's on her way Shawn. You know her – she was travelling when you went and got yourself kidnapped – so she'll be a little while. That means you have to hang on because she'll be really ticked if you – if she gets here and – you just hang on, okay? Your Mom will be here soon."

He heard footsteps behind him and for a crazy second thought he'd somehow conjured up Madeleine out of thin air. When he turned it was to see the nurse, coming in to check on his son.

"Sorry", she smiled as she moved by him and began to look at the machines and then at Shawn. "We check every ten minutes when patients are in the CCU", she explained quietly and she waited for the thermometer to beep. "Don't worry – nothing's changed. His vitals are holding steady." When she was done she looked down at the worried father. "Would you like a glass of water or a cup of coffee?"

"Uh – water sure – thank you."

She returned a couple of minutes later with a tall glass of water. "Here. I know this is hard", she told Henry, as she looked at his pale and unconscious son. "But it's a good thing you're here. They know", she told him. "I've had lots of patients come back and tell me that they could tell when someone they loved was close by. It's often what means the difference", she told him, not needing to say more.

"He can't die", he told the nurse. "He's – my only son, my only child. God – I – what would I tell his mother?"

"Shhh", she reached out and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Just keep doing what you're doing. Your love and strength will help him fight." She smiled slightly as she looked at Shawn. "And he's a fighter – I can tell. I can also tell he's a bit of a handful, isn't he?"

Henry laughed softly, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. "Oh yeah – always has been."

"Good! Those are the ones that do the best here. I figure God wants to make sure they stay here as long as possible just to save himself the trouble of dealing with them!" With that the nurse gave his shoulder another squeeze and left him alone again with his son.

He chuckled softly at the idea that Shawn would drive even God crazy. He wiped his eyes and felt his shoulders relax just slightly. The nurse had helped and this time, when he looked at his son, he didn't see a man who was dying – but rather a man who was fighting to live.

He reached out and again gently laid his hand on his son. "Come on kid – time to wake up. We're all waiting for you."

He really didn't want to wake up – or come back to life – or whatever it was he had to do to leave this warm, fuzzy place. The last time he'd tried it had hurt – badly. Nope, it was much better just floating around like this.

Hey – he'd have to tell Gus that this was really cool. Floating around in a mushy, cushy cloud. Now, if only he had a churro and a smoothie – wait! There was something about that that bothered him. He frowned – or at least he thought he did – he wasn't quite sure because he sort of – didn't feel his body.

"Is this an out of body experience?" he giggled. Now that really was disconcerting. He'd giggled but nothing had come out – no sound, nothing. Now things were starting to get creepy. He tried to take a breath but that didn't work either. "Oh crap! Maybe I really am dead."

The cloud – soft and warm – started to recede. "Ah – no!" The hurt started to return. At first it was just a small ache, where he couldn't tell. The next moment the ache had turned into a sharp pain and then next into total agony.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe – not that he'd actually been breathing before – but now it – "Aaaargh."

His body was on fire. He tried to move – to get away – to get it to stop. "Dad?" he begged, although he was sure nothing came out, that no one could hear him. If he was dead why did he hurt?

"Please", he begged, trying to move away from the pain. This time he thought he could hear something – he could hear himself whimper and beg. It would have been embarrassing but he was in too much agony to care. "Dad?" he begged again, "please, make it stop."

Suddenly a feeling of warmth began to wash over him and with it a lessening of the pain. It didn't stop instantly, but he could tell relief was coming and allowed himself to begin to let go. A moment – he had no idea how long it took – and then he could feel the cloud return. The pain fled and he relaxed.

Thanks Dad. The cloud took him away and he knew no more.

Henry had been sitting for what felt like hours. He did nothing but watch his son and the machines that surrounded him – nothing except pray.

He wasn't a particularly religious man – but right now he knew that things were bad – that a miracle was needed – and if he had to ask a God he barely believed in – and rarely thought about – for help, then he would.

He'd become almost hypnotized by watching the respirator as it hummed and breathed for his son. It took him a second, therefore, to realize that Shawn had moved. Henry sat up straight and kept his eyes on him. "Shawn?"

His son started to move his head back and forth – just a tiny bit, barely noticeable. A moment later the movements increased. The next thing Henry saw were Shawn's fingers – his poor bandaged fingers. They were moving – trying to clench and unclench. It was when Henry heard an eerie moan – forced out around the respirator, that he knew something was wrong.

"NURSE", he shouted. Within less than three seconds she was there, quickly checking over Shawn's vitals.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Henry demanded. He was terrified – terrified that something bad was happening and that he hadn't kept his son safe.

"It's okay Shawn", the nurse spoke softly, ignoring Henry. "I'm just going to give you a bit of pain medication and that should help. Just relax now, everything will be okay." She inserted a needle into his IV port and slowly injected the liquid in the syringe. "There, it'll just take a minute." She continued to monitor him – gently holding his wrist with two fingers – until she gave a swift nod. "There." She laid down his hand, checked his vitals once more, and finally turned to Henry.

"I'm sorry – that was frightening I know."

"But what happened? What was wrong?"

"He started to regain consciousness", she told him. "Oh, not completely – but he was more aware and so I gave him some pain medication. Everything looks fine now so I suspect that he was just feeling some pain. I know it was hard to watch, but actually it was a good thing. The fact that he'd regaining consciousness means his body is fighting this thing. We'll monitor his pain meds closely from now on to ensure he doesn't go through that again."

Henry let out a deep huff of air and practically collapsed back into his chair. "I thought – I thought", he rubbed his eyes. "I thought it was bad."

"I know. It's difficult to see loved ones going through this. But he's okay now – in fact he's doing well. I think you should go get a bite to eat and walk around for a bit. It'll -"

"No", Henry interrupted her, shaking his head. "I can't leave him."

She sighed, knowing that it was important to the father that Shawn not be left alone. Still, he needed a break or he was going to collapse. "Look – I heard that some of Shawn's friends are in the waiting room. Why don't I go and get one of them to come and sit with him for a while. Mr. Spencer, you need to take a break or you're going to collapse and Shawn needs you."

Henry looked at the nurse and finally nodded. "Okay", he agreed, "but just for a little while."

She smiled. "We can only allow one person in here at a time, and I'm sure some of the others would appreciate an opportunity to spend some time with him." She said it nicely, but Henry gave her a swift glance, realizing what she was doing.

"You're smart", he told her.

"So I've been told", she grinned.

"And evil", he continued.

"I've been told that as well."

"Yes, well – okay. I'll wait here until you bring one of them back."

"Good man." She patted his arm and turned to ask one of the other nurses to watch her patient while she went to the waiting room. She glanced back at Mr. Spencer and smiled. If his son was as stubborn as he was, then he was going to make it through this.

"Are there any friends of Shawn Spencer here?" a short, gray-haired nurse called out as she walked into the waiting room. Immediately four people stood up.

Nurse Amelia Rodriguez almost laughed, although she knew they wouldn't find it at all appropriate. "I'm here to see if one of you will sit with Shawn for a while. His father needs a break but he doesn't want Shawn to be alone."

She could tell that the attractive young blond wanted to rush forward and offer, but for some reason held back. That was interesting. She obviously had feelings for the young man, but they must not be together if her actions said anything.

"I'll go", a young African American man stepped forward. "Uh – I'm Shawn's best friend", he explained. "How is he?"

The nurse looked at them all gently, with compassion in her eyes. "As I'm sure the doctor told you, he is still in very critical condition", she explained. "But I have been doing this for many, many years and I know a fighter when I see one. As I told his father – it helps when those he loves are near – and for them to keep fighting for him as well. Now come along", she told Gus. "Let's go see your friend."

Gus had to stop outside the room and he looked in panic at Nurse Rodriguez. "I don't – I don't know if I can do this", he confessed. "I'm – afraid that I'll -" he closed his eyes in shame, remembering back to when they'd found him.

"Of course you can", the nurse said calmly. "You said he is your best friend?"

Gus nodded.

"Then you must do this for him. He needs you now – you must be there for him."

Of course he must! What was he thinking? With a sharp nod he stepped forward and into the room.

"Henry?" he said softly, looking at the father, rather than at his friend.

"Gus?" Henry turned and looked at Shawn's friend. "He's doing okay. Will you stay with him for a little while? Nurse Rodriguez is kicking me out."

"For your own good Mr. Spencer", she told him.

"I know." He stood and looked down at his son. "I'm just gonna go for a little while Shawn", he told him. "Gus is going to stay here with you. You be good while I'm gone and don't the two of you get into any trouble." He gave Gus a smile and a pat on the back as he walked from the room, giving one last look at his son.

Gus slowly sat in the chair and finally forced himself to look at his friend. He swallowed desperately as he felt the nausea rise in his throat. Oh God – Shawn looked so terrible. His skin looked translucent and his lips were blue. Not only that but his eyes seemed sunken into his face and there were huge black circles underneath. Logically he knew it was partially due to the severe dehydration – but he also suspected it was because of the terror his friend must have felt.

"I'm so sorry", he reached out but stopped his hand before he touched him. "I'm so sorry Shawn", he said again. "I'm here for you and – and when you're all better you'll never get rid of me. I was awful to you and I'll never forgive myself – and I need you to get well and kick my butt, okay?"

But Shawn didn't respond. He continued to lie there, totally still and unmoving. That wasn't right – it wasn't his friend. Shawn was never still, never quiet. At any moment Gus expected him to get up and yell that it was all a trick – and Gus would get mad and hit him on the shoulder and they'd wrestle and then laugh and go and get something to eat – and things would be back to normal.

But they weren't normal and Shawn wasn't going to jump up. His friend was sick – he looked like he was dying – and it was all Gus' fault.

"I'm sorry", he said again, when suddenly an alarm went off.

The nurse – he couldn't remember her name – rushed in and started checking the equipment and Shawn. "His vitals are dropping", she told him. "I've called for the doctor."

Oh God no!" Gus' hand rose to his mouth and he sobbed. "Shawn!"

The nurse looked at him swiftly. "Talk to him. Tell him to fight. Come on – he needs you. Don't give up – because then he'll give up. TALK to him."

So Gus did. He reached out and gently took one of the torn and injured hands in his. "Come on Shawn – you're being a wuss! Fight. Come on – you know that if you – if you die – then I'll get all your David Hasselhoff mugs – and you're A-Team posters. And – and your Easy Bake Oven – that will be mine! Come on – you know you can't leave me. What would I do without you Shawn? I'll never be able to enjoy Jerk Chicken again. And you promised we'd go to the Night of the Radishes in Mexico this year. I can't go to a Radish Festival without my best friend."

"Good", Nurse Rodriguez was watching his blood pressure and heart beat. "He's responding."

Gus kept talking – trying to pour all his resolve, all his determination into his friend. There was no way in hell he was going to let Shawn die. While he was still talking the doctor arrived and conferred with the nurse as he too took note of Shawn's vitals. He watched as Nurse Rodriguez prepared another syringe and injected into the IV. After a moment he nodded.

The doctor then turned and looked at the young man whose eyes were totally focused on his patient. The doctor glanced at the nurse, and both of them smiled. "Keep talking to him son", he told Gus. "You're doing well and he's responding to you. I've changed his medication and we're going to see if that improves things – but in the meantime, stay with him. It helps."

Gus glanced up and nodded. "I will. He's my friend and I'm not going to let him go."

"Good – that's the spirit!" With that the doctor left, followed a moment later by the nurse.

For a moment there he'd wondered if things were about to change again. He was still existing in that floaty place – and fortunately he wasn't hurting. But for just a second things had seemed to change and he could feel a pull – he didn't know how else to describe it. It was as if someone or something was trying to take him away. He didn't know where – or from where – but it had frightened him.

The pull had started to grow more intense when suddenly something was holding him back. It felt like – a lifeline. It was as if someone was trying to help him and was holding onto his hand. He kind of felt like the rope in tug-of-war. He grasped it and held on for dear life. He couldn't tell who it was – but he knew that the person was helping him. He continued to hold on.

The pull began to lessen and suddenly he was back to 'floaty'. "Yes", he murmured, allowing his eyes to close. "Thanks." He squeezed the hand that had held him safely and allowed himself to rest.