Chapter 10 – Antiseptic Nightmare

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer. I've got the results of your father's latest ultrasound examination. The broken rib caused more damage than we initially anticipated. There's a source of internal bleeding, and we need to operate."

"Didn't you say yesterday that he's in no condition to undergo surgery?"

"His condition doesn't advise it, no. The pneumonia has lowered his blood pressure, and his infection still hasn't receded as much as I'd like. But we don't really have a choice about that right now, not with the internal bleeding."

"All right."

"You will need to sign the paperwork. Your father's records state that you have power of attorney for his medical decisions."

"Who, me?"

"Yes Mr. Spencer, you. I'm going to get a paperwork, and a nurse will come in a few minutes to prep your father for surgery."

And that was how Shawn had ended up in the hospital waiting room for the second time within twenty-four hours. Gus had arrived a few minutes after Henry had been wheeled away for the operation, and now he was sitting next to Shawn on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and waited.

Again, Shawn didn't say a word as they sat there, and this time Gus didn't even bother to pretend reading a magazine. He also didn't try to tell his friend anything about getting something to eat, or go home and sleep. Shawn looked as if he was in desperate need of both, but Gus knew that he wouldn't go and get either before Henry was out of surgery again. At least Shawn had changed out of his blood-soaked jeans by now and was wearing a pair of tan slacks which Gus had gotten from his apartment earlier.

But as soon as Henry was out of surgery and settled back in his room, Gus would make sure that his friend got some rest. And something to eat. Maybe not in that particular order, but he'd make sure of it.

And Henry had better be all right real quick after the operation, otherwise he'd have to answer to Gus. What Shawn needed right now was some sort of emotional stability, like knowing that his father was going to be fine again. Gus didn't even want to imagine what Shawn had to feel like after the past three days. First the fight with his father, then the news that he was dead, then the hope that maybe he wasn't, only to find him near dead in that basement, then being told that he was on his way to getting better and now this. If it was a rollercoaster ride, it had long passed the point where Shawn still knew which way was up and which way was down.

He checked his watch. Two hours ten minutes since Henry had been taken to the operation. Gus got up from his chair.

"I'm going to the cafeteria. Anything I can get you?"

Shawn shook his head. "No thanks."

"Let me rephrase that. I'm going to the cafeteria, and I'm going to get you something to eat. So, do you want a sandwich or anything else?"

Shawn sighed. "Sandwich is fine."

"Good."

But just as Gus turned to leave, the doors to the OR-area opened and Henry's surgeon came out. Gus stopped in his tracks and immediately went back to Shawn's side. His friend had gotten up from his chair upon the doctor's approach, and anybody who didn't know Shawn as well as Gus wouldn't have noticed the tension in his stance or the slight trembling of his hands. Gus tried to read something from the surgeon's expression, any notion that would prepare them for the doctor's words, but his expression was perfectly unreadable.

Gus drew a deep breath and braced himself. If the news was bad, he needed to keep his act together for Shawn.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Death was an interesting experience. Not being a religious person, Henry Spencer had never really considered concepts like heaven, hell, or life after death in general, so this was an interesting and unbiased firsthand experience. Now, Henry couldn't remember why exactly he was so convinced that he was dead, but the notion was so firmly embedded in his subconscious that he didn't doubt it. He was dead.

And death was obviously warm, dark, and smelled slightly of antiseptic.

That, and something was beeping in a faint rhythm somewhere in the background.

Slowly Henry opened first one eye, then the other, and tried to figure out what was going on. It took a moment for his eyes to be able to focus on anything, but as soon as he saw somewhat more clearly, he frowned.

He was fairly sure that there weren't any hospitals in afterlife.

It contradicted the entire concept of being physically dead, anyway. So something had to be wrong about his conviction of being dead.

All right, he needed to figure out what had happened to bring him here. He thought for a moment. The memories were fuzzy, but they came quickly.

His boat, the cell in the basement, Harold Sinclair.

Sinclair!

Henry's heart started beating fast in his chest, and from somewhere in the distance the faint beeping sound sped up. Sinclair had threatened to get to Shawn, and if Henry had for some reason which he couldn't yet understand come out of that basement alive, he needed to warn his son.

"Shawn."

Something was wrong with his voice, it came out all muffled and wrong. But there was movement in the room, and a moment later somebody bent over his bed. At first it was only a blurry brown blob, but after a bit of blinking Gus' face came into focus.

"Mr. Spencer?"

"Gus."

Again, his voice didn't come out right, but Gus reached for his face and suddenly Henry realised that there was a mask covering the lower half of his face. Gus pulled off the oxygen mask, and finally Henry could speak. Well, it came out more like a whisper, but it served its purpose.

"Shawn. Sinclair…he'll go after Shawn. Gotta…warn…"

"It's all right, Mr. Spencer. Sinclair is in prison, and Shawn is fine."

Somehow, breathing was a lot easier after those words. "Where is he?"

Gus smiled and nudged his head towards the other side of the bed. With a lot of effort, Henry turned his head in the direction Gus indicated. Shawn was sitting on a chair beside the bed, arms crossed in front of his chest, head lolled to the side, fast asleep. Henry was shocked to see his son like that. Shawn was pale, the stubble on his face went way beyond his usual three to five-day stubble. He looked scruffy all over, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and the shadows underneath his eyes were so dark that they gave his face a skull-like appearance.

"Why's he here?", Henry forced out. "He looks exhausted."

"He refused to leave until you woke up."

Henry rolled his eyes. Typical of his son, that kind of stubbornness.

"Why are you here?"

"Me?", Gus shrugged. "I'm on Shawn-watch. Juliet, me and some others, we've been taking turns."

"Shawn-watch?" Worry rose inside of Henry, and the beeping of the heart monitor sped up again.

Gus nodded. "Yes. To make sure that he doesn't drive himself to total exhaustion. Force him to take breaks, to eat, to drink, to sleep. Though the last one doesn't seem to be a problem today."

"How long have I been out?"

Gus shrugged. "Shawn figured out where you were on Saturday afternoon, and you were found shortly afterwards. Now it's Tuesday morning. You had surgery on Sunday, and after that your condition worsened for a while. Shawn…it was hard on him. He pushed himself beyond what was good for him that day. Didn't eat, didn't drink, refused to leave your room. He nearly collapsed, so we started to check in on him. But it'll do him good to get a whole night's sleep sometime soon."

A worried frown had settled on Henry's face at Gus words.

"I'm awake now. He can go get some sleep."

Gus laughed. "Yeah, you try and tell him that. Meanwhile, I'm going to go call Chief Vick. Half the police of Santa Barbara is waiting for their daily update. It's good to see you awake again, Mr. Spencer."

He turned towards the door, but on his way made a small detour over towards Shawn's chair. Gently he shook his friend's shoulder. For a few seconds, Shawn didn't react, but then he began to shift around, mumbled and started to open his eyes at the same time.

"Whassup?", was the first halfway coherent word out of his mouth.

"I need to make some calls. There's somebody here who'd be glad for a little distraction in the meantime."

And before Shawn had even opened his eyes fully, Gus was already out of the room. Tiredly, Shawn looked after his friend, then he turned back towards the bed. And froze.

"Dad, you're awake!"
"Yes, I am. You can go home now."

Shawn's face fell immediately. Henry had seen that reaction to something he said often before, but this one time he hadn't meant it the way Shawn had understood it. Henry closed his eyes and sighed.

"Shawn, Gus said you're exhausted. I can see that you're exhausted. You need sleep. I'll be all right."

Shawn shook his head. "I'm okay, Gus was exaggerating. You know him."
"Yes, I know Gus. Which is why I want you to go home and get some sleep."

"Dad, I…"

"When was the last time you slept through a night, Shawn?"

Shawn rubbed his hands across his face and through his hair. "That's not important now, is it?"

"Yes, it is."

"No Dad, it isn't!"

"When Shawn?", Henry demanded in his best no-nonsense voice.

"Last Wednesday, all right?", Shawn yelled and got up from his chair. He started pacing in front of the window, his hands buried in his hair. "That is if you're not counting the one night when Gus drugged me without my knowledge. So what? I'm a little tired, but of course the first thing you do after waking up is to find a thing to berate me for!"

Henry shifted slightly on the bed so that he had a better look at his son. "This isn't about berating you for anything."

"Oh no? Then what is this all about?"

"It's about your friends taking turns to watch you over the past days, Shawn. It's about Gus telling me that you've totally neglected your own needs to the point of complete physical exhaustion, that's what it's about!"

Henry was yelling now. It wasn't up to his normal standards as far as yelling was concerned, and it left him short of breath. Shawn might have noticed it, but he was still pacing the length of the room with his eyes on the floor.

"I'm not a five-year old who needs constant surveillance. I think I know how much my body can handle. So I'm sorry if I was worried about you, it certainly won't happen again!"

When there was no immediate reply, Shawn turned back towards the bed.

"Dad?"

His father was a lot paler than a moment ago, and gasping for air. Shawn hurried over towards the bed and started pushing the call-button for the nurse.

"Dad? Come on, what's wrong?"

Henry didn't answer, but the beeping of the heart-monitor became more frantic, and a moment later the door to the room opened and a nurse came hurrying in.

"What is going on here? Mr. Spencer, what's wrong?"

Henry didn't answer, but obviously the nurse hadn't expected him to. With efficient movements she fixed the oxygen mask back on Henry's face, checked the IV and injected something into the drip. After a minute or two, the spikes on the heart-monitor grew less erratic and Henry's breathing came easier.

"Under no circumstances are you to get excited, Mr. Spencer. Your pneumonia isn't something to take lightly, your lungs aren't up for any stress right now. I want you to keep that oxygen mask right where it is, understood?"

Henry nodded and the nurse turned back towards Shawn. "One more episode like that and I'll kick you out, is that understood? I had the impression you wanted your father to get better, not worse. Stop getting him excited or you're out of here, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am", Shawn mumbled, and with a last iron glare the nurse turned and left the room again. Shawn sank back down into his previously vacated chair and covered his face with his hands.

"Sorry", he mumbled. "You're right, maybe I should just go."

He made move to get up from the chair again, but Henry's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Shawn…"

His voice came out muffled under the oxygen mask, and with his free hand Henry reached up and pulled it off again.

"Dad, that nurse seemed pretty serious about keeping the mask on. Besides, I'm pretty sure she just gave you something that'll knock you out, anyway."

Henry shook his head. "Just a moment." He drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise. I'm pretty sure you're no longer dying or anything, so there's really no need to get all emotional."
Henry shook his head. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

Shawn shrugged, uncomfortably. "What happened isn't really your fault."

"It is. Sinclair said he'd go after you next. Because he blames me for what happened to his son. And I couldn't stop him. I couldn't have helped you."

"Doesn't make it your fault, really", Shawn said. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the way this conversation was going. His Dad yelling at him was terra firma, Shawn knew how to deal with that. This, however, was uncharted waters, and his own emotions were still boiling far too close to the surface for comfort.

"I thought you were dead, all right? Everybody kept telling me you were dead, until I believed it. So no matter what, I prefer the way things turned out to that alternative. So what if I missed a couple of hours of sleep? Doesn't really matter in the greater picture. Besides, you yelled at me, which I take as a sure indicator that you're on your way to getting better again. So I'll just go home and get some sleep now."

Henry smiled slightly, his lids already drooping close. "That was all I told you to do in the first place."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you always need to have the last word, don't you? That's probably why you left about a hundred messages on my answering machine."

Henry's smile widened. "Probably, yes. Or maybe we should just figure out a different way of communicating. Instead of fighting, I mean."

Shawn laughed. "What, and break with a thirty-year old tradition? Nah. Where would be the fun in that?"

Henry was already half-asleep, but the smile stayed on his face at Shawn's words.

"We'll talk tomorrow", Shawn said. "When you're not all drugged up. How's that sound?"

Henry nodded wordlessly, and with a smile Shawn reached for the oxygen mask to place it back over his father's face.

"Tomorrow", Henry mumbled with his eyes finally closed.

"Yes, tomorrow. Now you sleep so that I can finally go home. I got about a week of sleep to catch up on."

"Love you", was the soft reply, and those two words stopped Shawn in mid-movement, the oxygen mask still an inch away from his father's face. Henry, he noticed, was fast asleep already, and Shawn swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. Because suddenly, all their fighting and the shouting didn't seem really important anymore.

"Yeah, I love you, too."

He fixed the mask back in place over his father's nose and mouth and straightened up. "Good night, Dad."

Henry didn't react, the medication had already taken him off into a deep slumber. With a last look at his father sleeping peacefully on the bed, Shawn turned and left the hospital room. He needed to catch up with Gus before his friend left, he needed a ride home.