Disclaimer: I don't own Psych, To Kill a Mockingbird or Iron Giant.


A/N: I'm going to go ahead and clarify: THIS IS NOT A DEATHFIC! I've had a lot of people asking me if Shawn dies, and the answer is no! No worries, I will always let you know if I'm going to kill someone off! :) Thanks for the response for the last chapter! This chapter is action packed! Extended A/N and anonymous review replies at the end of the chapter. Enjoy, and please review!


The Finch and the Mockingbird

Chapter Eleven: I'll Snap My Thumbs and Fight for You

One of Henry's hands had been uncuffed so that he could hold the evidence folders and examine them easily. Unfortunately, Aaron Stevens had deftly danced out of his reach as soon as the hand was freed, and Henry wasn't able to attack him.

Shawn had woken up, but it was obvious he wasn't there. His eyes were glassy, and he was visibly shaking, so much so that Henry could see his battered form trembling from where he hung. A thin sheen of sweat covered every bit of his exposed skin, mixing with blood on his arm. The bleeding had mostly stopped again, thank goodness. But he'd lost too much blood already, and he was undoubtedly in shock. Henry really didn't know how much longer he would last if he didn't get treatment soon.

He looked at the meticulously recreated versions of courtroom evidence. Stevens was nothing if not thorough. He had made pages of evidence to go along with his claims that Shawn had killed O'Dell. Shawn's fingerprints had apparently been lifted off the gun by a crude fingerprinting kit, placed on one of the pages. A bloody fingerprint belonging to his son was beside it, and despite the fact that he didn't have the equipment to examine the page thoroughly, he knew that both fingerprints were Shawn's, and they were almost certainly a match.

Other information had been compiled in the manner it would be when it was presented as evidence in court, obviously done beforehand. Looking at the evidence that he knew was false, Henry couldn't help but note that if this had been an actual case and if he hadn't known anything other than the words printed on these pages, it would be a quick and easy, slam dunk case.

According to the files, Mr. Shawn H. Spencer had been seen entering Mr. Herman O'Dell's place of residence just a few hours before he was found dead. He'd dragged O'Dell to this obscure shelter in the middle of nowhere in his best friend's Toyota Echo. Bloodstains had been found on the back seat upholstery. Spencer had been meticulous in his wiping the body of prints, but he'd neglected to wipe down the gun, planning to dispose of it later. He was interrupted when the heroic Mr. Aaron Stevens had stumbled upon the scene, disarmed him, and restrained him while waiting for the police. According to the lead witness, he'd seen Spencer with the gun standing over the body in this very spot while he tried to decide what to do with the body. Unfortunately, he'd been forced to rough up the murderer a little bit because he'd not been compliant.

It was complete and utter bull crap. Henry knew it, Stevens knew it, and if Shawn's mind had been in working order, he would've known it, too.

"What do you think of that evidence, Mr. Spencer?" Stevens asked darkly from his perch behind the judge's podium. "Pretty damning, isn't it?"

"I think you're full of—"

All it took was a meaningful, hate-filled glance toward Shawn and for Stevens' hand to slightly tighten its grip on his own pistol held loosely but significantly in his hand for Aaron to cause Henry to back down. He'd already tortured his son. Henry knew the man would have no qualms about going through with his threats and shooting Shawn.

Henry tossed the evidence folders aside as he spoke, bringing his free hand surreptitiously behind him to supposedly scratch at his back. In reality, he was reaching for his other the set of handcuffs that still bound his other hand to the set of seats behind him. He didn't have access to anything that would help him break or pick the locks; his knife and other tools had been taken from him upon his arrival. He steeled himself for what he was about to do, setting his jaw firmly and keeping his expression neutral so he wouldn't alert his captor that he was up to anything.

He'd never actually done this before, but he knew the procedure, knew exactly which bone to put pressure on, and knew that it would hurt like hell, but he also knew that it was necessary, and if it came to saving his son's life, he would break every bone in his hand, every bone in his body, to keep him safe. It was a chilling revelation he made to himself, but he knew it without a shadow of a doubt.

With his free hand, he groped around, quickly grasping his still handcuffed hand and finding his thumb. He spoke while he felt around, carefully trying to find the small bone in his thumb with his fingers, which were already sticky from the blood that had seeped from the cuts on his wrists where he'd fought against the restraints. "If I didn't know any better," he said slowly, making sure he kept his voice steady and face unchanging even as he began to apply pressure on the bone, "and if I hadn't seen what you'd done to my son, and if I didn't know that all of this was false, and if I wasn't connected to the victim or the defendant in any way... then I'd say it was an easy case." More pressure. He ignored the pain.

"At least we're getting somewhere now," Stevens said, relaxing the grip on his gun and sitting back somewhat. "But I want more, Henry. I want you to give your verdict for this case. We both know exactly what it's going to be, don't we? And if you don't give the verdict, I'm going to make sure Shawn suffers way more than this before he dies."

Henry glanced at Shawn, who wasn't comprehending any of this. His son blinked lethargically, his lips barely moving and no sound coming out of his mouth, but Henry could still read the word on his son's lips.

Dad.

He swallowed heavily, knowing that it was now or never. The pained expression on his face as he looked at his only son, beaten and tortured and hanging from the rafters, would be his best bet to cover up any reaction to the physical pain that he might not be able to completely hide. He increased the pressure on the bone in his thumb, speaking loudly as he did so to mask the coming snap. "Fine! You want a verdict? You want me to condemn my own son? You're that bitter and angry and lonely? Fine. Guilty. You got that? This corrupt, false, crappy evidence shows him as guilty!"

Snap.

Excruciating pain sliced through Henry's thumb, shooting through his hand and up his arm. He managed to keep his expression the same, but his last word had come out a little louder and more strained thanks to his newly broken thumb. Aaron didn't notice.

Gingerly, making sure to keep the handcuffs from clinking against the wood, Henry squeezed his hand through the cuff, broken thumb allowing him to slip out fairly easily. He remained seated even as a triumphant, smirking Stevens rose to his feet and got closer to the witness platform. He looked at Shawn, who stared uncomprehendingly back. "Looks like your dear old dad has betrayed you," he said menacingly. "The jury pronounces you guilty."

To Henry's surprise, Shawn lifted his head slightly and a weak voice rasped, "Let'm go, St'vns."

"Let him go? No, if there's anyone I'm going to be letting go, it's going to be you." He looked meaningfully toward the rope connected to Shawn's hands that lead to the hook on the back wall. Henry knew without a doubt what he was about to do.

"Now that the jury has come to a decision," Stevens said, turning to walk toward the rope near the hook, drawing a switchblade out of his pocket and opening it, "I, the Honorable Judge Aaron Stevens, can finally pass my sentence. The death pe—"

He turned to gloat at Henry before he cut the rope to his hands, intending to leave Shawn with nothing but the noose to hold him up, but his prisoner wasn't where he had been before. Henry was already three fourths of the way to Stevens, arms pumping at his sides, and with his right hand, he planted a solid punch to the man's jaw with all of his strength, broken thumb and all, sending the man staggering backwards. As he stumbled, Henry slammed his left hand down on the man's fist clenched around the knife. The weapon clattered to the ground, and a quick kick of Henry's foot sent it skittering across the floor, well out of Stevens' reach.

The man had left his gun on the podium. The other gun had been shoved back into the backpack, so it wouldn't be possible to get to it quickly enough. As Stevens quickly shook off the hit that should have been debilitating to anyone who wasn't part giant, Henry had a decision to make. Should he keep on with the physical attack, trying to best the bigger man with only his fighting skills and muscles alone, or should he go for the gun?

If he went for the gun, Stevens might have time to reach his knife, or to hurt Shawn more. Henry lunged for the crazed kidnapper, slamming the giant slab of muscle against the back wall with all of his strength, trying to direct their fight away from Shawn's hanging form, not wanting his helpless son to get caught in the middle of the scuffle, and not wanting Stevens anywhere near Shawn ever again.

Stevens retaliated quickly, bringing both arms up between Henry's, which were positioned on his opponent's shoulders, gripping tightly, and slammed his forearms into Henry's elbow joints with astounding force, knocking the older man's hands aside. He followed up with a quick kick to Henry's left knee, bringing him down with a grunt. Instead of going for another hit, Stevens darted off in the direction that his knife had flown, half-stumbling, half-running. Henry groaned as he pulled himself to his feet and lunged at Aaron again, snatching a handful of his shirt and just managing to pull the giant man off balance enough to make him stagger slightly.

His fingertips had been inches from the knife.

Henry kicked the knife again while Aaron regained his balance, and it disappeared into some dark corner on the other side of the building. He ignored the pounding in his broken thumb, scraped knuckles and bruised knee as he fought desperately for his son's life with a strength he hadn't known he possessed.

Henry smashed his head into Aaron's chin, and got a fist to the gut in response. He made sure to lead the man away from where Shawn hung, staying as far away from him as possible. They finally made their way around to the front of Shawn, exchanging blows along the way, and Henry saw that his son's eyes had closed again. His heart raced as he frantically stared at Shawn's chest for evidence of breath in a rare moment of panic, and unfortunately, that was all the opening Stevens needed to crack a debilitating blow to the back of Henry's head.

Pain arced across his skull and down his spine, and the older Spencer fell to his knees, vision swimming madly. He fought for consciousness desperately, knowing that if he passed out now, Stevens would kill Shawn. He pitched forward, his world tilting dizzily, and he caught himself with his good hand, a gruff sound of strain coming from his mouth. His vision was flooded with black spots, but he blinked vigorously, steadfastly refusing to lose his hold on consciousness.

He had to save his son.

Distantly, he could hear Stevens saying something. To Shawn? He was gloating. Probably about to go for his knife. Henry struggled to his knees, his vision still coming in crazily. There was a strangled yell – Shawn! - and a thump, the sound of something hitting the floor – or being stopped midair by a rope.

"SHAWN!" Henry screamed desperately, his terror bringing an adrenaline rush that thankfully sent new strength into his limbs and cleared his vision enough to see what had just happened before him.

Henry stared, eyes wide and heart pounding, not believing the sight in front of him.


Shawn felt like he was completely disconnected from the world, except for the pain. The pain was keeping him grounded, keeping his mind and body from floating away, but even that was beginning to fade slightly.

He wanted to be glad, but he had a feeling that somehow, this wasn't a good thing.

He was freezing, shivering and shaking like a leaf, and every tremble amplified the pain coursing through his body.

With blurry vision, he watched his father. He was still coherent enough to have an idea of what was going on, and to remember the basics of what was happening, but his mind was quickly slipping away, only to be pulled back slightly by another tug of agony. His dad was sitting down on some bleachers in front of him. One hand was handcuffed. The other was behind his back.

He couldn't see many details around him, which was strange for him, but his head was spinning crazily and none of his senses were coming in clearly (except for his stupid nerve endings; they were alive enough!), but he could hear the desperation in his father's voice when he spoke, and he thought he could make out a look that should have never been on Henry Spencer's face, ever.

Sorrow, terror, fear, helplessness.

He needed to let his dad know it was okay. It wasn't his fault. Shawn focused on that one simple task, and as he did so, he felt rather than saw his father's eyes turn to him. With great effort, he opened his mouth, strained his voice, and a word that wasn't even a fraction of a whisper left his slightly parted lips.

"Dad..."

He hoped his dad had heard him somehow.

The judge – Aaron Stevens – was yelling at his father now, and Shawn watched blearily as the man got up from his seat. He followed him with his eyes, he heard the desperation in his father's voice. And somehow he found the strength to actually form and speak words. He croaked, "Let'im go, St'vns."

After that, he lost track of the world for a while.

He heard yelling, the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, but he was drifting in and out now, and it sounded like they were behind him – at the very least, they weren't in front of him – and he had no way of knowing who was winning, or if his dad was still alive.

His eyes slipped shut.

They snapped open again at the loud, bone-rattling sound of metal striking flesh and bone and he watched in horror through dim vision as Henry reeled from a staggering blow to the back of the head, his knees giving way. He fell to the floor in front of Shawn.

Stevens walked around him while he collapsed, and Shawn was able to see a startling contrast of red against the back of his dad's head. Then he realized with a stab of fear that the man standing over his father, with his back to Shawn, had a gun in his hand. That had to be what he'd hit his dad with! And as Shawn watched, horrified, the man lifted the gun, aiming it at his father's head.

Shawn heard him say something about a change of plans.

Stevens was going to shoot his dad in cold blood, just like he had O'Dell!

Shawn Spencer knew one thing in that moment, clearer than he'd ever known anything else; clearer than when he'd known that Camdon McCallum had kidnapped himself, clearer than when he'd known that Yang couldn't be allowed to get into his head, clearer than he'd known that Detective Carlton Lassiter would be the most fun prank-ee he'd ever met.

He had to save his dad.

With a strength of mind and body he didn't know he had, Shawn swung his legs back as far as he could, the shattered kneecap on his right side searing with pain, his arms screaming with pure agony as he swung on them. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he was terrified that he was going to pass out. He held on though, because no matter what happened to him, Stevens simply couldn't kill his dad.

He swung forward, then backward again, his momentum carrying him where his strength and stamina no longer could.

His vision was fading uncontrollably when he swung forward, and with one final, excruciating burst of energy, he swung his good leg as hard as he could at the man in front of him, planting the toe and side of his sneakers into Stevens' temple, with more force than he'd known he'd had in him.

He must have hit the killer in just the right spot, just hard enough, because the formerly unstoppable Stevens dropped like a stone when Shawn kicked him in the head.

Ha, Shawn thought, his eyes closing now that his task was done, still swinging slightly in his bonds, the pain unbearable. Like David and Gigantor.

Gus's voice suddenly spoke up again in his head. "David and Goliath, Shawn, and you know that. Stop being a jerk."

Shawn didn't have the energy to respond to mind-Gus vocally or mentally, so he just let himself slip away, hoping that Iron Giant would be out long enough for his dad to gain control of the situation.


It took them nearly ten minutes to find the beginning of the old dirt road from the old Stevens residence. It took another twenty-five minutes to follow said trail on foot, as the path was so overgrown that only by walking would be able to adequately traverse the ground.

Juliet prayed that Lassiter was right and this was the real deal. They had taken so much time and effort to follow this lead that if Shawn and Henry weren't there, way too much time would have been wasted.

But it wasn't as if they had a better lead, anyway.

Thankfully, when the dilapidated and weed-ridden trail finally came to an end and the dark, looming walls of the building in question came into view, they were rewarded with the sight of a large, navy blue van parked in front.

Someone was here.

Several of the officers went for the van, guns drawn, and quickly, quietly confirmed that there was no one inside.

That meant they were inside the shelter, as expected. Juliet and her partner led the officers and SWAT to the front door. Guns were drawn, held out in front of them as they approached.

The door was indeed impenetrable, solid wood, with no doorknob but a strangely shaped keyhole set in a large silver circle in the center of the door. They examined it quietly, discussing their options in hushed tones. They could try to pick the lock, but it looked far too complicated, even with the right equipment, and they needed in there as soon as possible. They could announce their presence and demand Stevens to come out with his hands up, which would probably only result in an even more chaotic hostage situation. They could try to shoot the lock, which would probably alert whoever was inside that they were there, and there was no guarantee that doing so would disengage the lock; it could actually make things worse, but it was their fastest and probably most hopeful option nonetheless.

The decision was made for them when the hoarse, terrified, pain-filled voice of Henry Spencer sounded even through the thick Ironwood walls. "SHAWN!"

Without a second glance to see what the others thought, Lassiter's finger tightened on the trigger. He fired several shots into the locking mechanism while everyone looked on anxiously. Without testing the door first, and knowing that it was going to hurt even if the lock had unlatched, but would probably break their feet if it hadn't, both detectives lifted their legs in high kicks and slammed their soles into the heavy wooden door.

The lock had disengaged. The door swung open, even as pain lanced up Juliet's leg.

So not entirely impenetrable.

As she, Lassiter, the officers and SWAT swarmed into the room, the sight before her made her heart jump to her throat, and she found herself distantly wondering how it could have ever, ever come to this.


Replies to Anonymous Reviewers:

To Guest: The calvary has arrived! Hang in there, guys! ;) Thanks for the review! :D

To Hope: I'm really glad you're still enjoying this, and that you're eager for more! Hope this chapter satisfied. I can promise you that Shawn's not going to die... though he's still got a whole lot more crap to go through before he's okay, mentally, physically, and emotionally. *does angsty whump dance, then realizes that I'm probably making myself look foolish* *clears throat* As you were. ... Thanks so much for the review! More soon!


A/N: Intense enough for you? LOL, when I read this chapter to my sister, she was rocking back and forth on the floor with her hands over her mouth, looking terrified. She said the suspense was ridiculous. Which was kind of what I was aiming for, so it made me smile! :)

A million thank-yous to everyone who reviewed chapter 10: Guest, Polaris'05, Hope, Liberty Hoffman, ShamrockNinny and Comma to the Top! :) Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited the story as well!

Rescue's a'comin'! Just hold on, Shawn and Henry! HOLD ON! *flails*

Thanks again for your reviews, and please, PLEASE review this chapter; I seriously would LOVE feedback for this chapter, seeing as it's essentially the crux of the story!

We're still nowhere near out of the woods, so we've got more action, more whump, more angst, more h/c, more... STORY to come! Lots more story! :) Stay tuned, please review, and I'll see you next week! I love you guys!

~Emachinescat ^..^