Again, sorry for the delay. Really, don't hesitate to kick me in the posterior if I forget an update. It's so embarassing, and I'm awfully sorry. Hope this chapter can make up a little for that.

Enjoy!

Chapter 12 – Whatever you're going through, it's no excuse

Henry had expected it to happen. A lot sooner, actually. Personally, he'd have preferred Winnie to have her outbreak while Shawn had still been too numb to take it in as clearly as he had just now.

It wasn't that he couldn't sympathize with her, because he could. He knew what Gus' parents had to be feeling like right now.

And he didn't think that Winnie meant every word she had said.

Henry knew from firsthand experience that when your child was inches away from dying, you were glad for every scapegoat. Back when he had been in Winnie's position, he had directed his anger at Shawn's bike. The bike had been what had caused the accident, it had been the reason why Shawn had been seriously hurt. Winnie didn't have an inanimate object to blame like Henry had had. The difference was that all Henry's accusations and hatred hadn't hurt the bike. Not even that one well-placed kick hadn't really hurt or damaged the bike.

But Winnie's words had hurt Shawn. It had been plainly visible on his face as he had turned around and stormed out the door that led to the staircase. And Henry didn't think Shawn could deal with that very well right now.

He looked back at Winnie, who was still staring at the spot Shawn had stood in moments ago, as if she could still see some time-delayed reflection of him.

"Winnie," he said, surprised when she abruptly turned her furious glare on him.

But he didn't back down. Henry had been married to the master of angry glares. He had had more angry and furious glares directed his way than he could count. And it took a lot more than what Winnie Guster was able to muster up to make him back down.

"I don't think that was necessary."

Winnie shook her head. "Stop it, Henry. You won't make me change my mind. Shawn has caused enough damage already, I won't let him go anywhere near my son again."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Somebody must have forgotten to tell me that it was Shawn who beat Gus into a coma."

Winnie's eyes widened. "How dare you…"

"I dare because I know what's going on inside of my son right now, Winnie. Shawn is blaming himself enough for all this, he doesn't need you to add any blame to that. Especially not since what happened is not Shawn's fault."

"Oh no? It's not Shawn's fault? Then tell me whose fault it is that my son got involved with those racists in the first place? Whose fault is it that the whole city knew about their involvement because he gave an interview on TV?"

"It wasn't Shawn's fault that this reporter ambushed him. He certainly didn't want to be all over the news. And that's not what this is all about! Don't you think that Gus knew very well what he let himself in for?"

"Gus would have never willingly put himself in such a danger. It's always Shawn's crazy ideas and idiotic schemes that cause this kind of trouble!"

Henry shook his head. "So what? You think Shawn decided to work this case and didn't tell Gus what it was about? Come on Winnie, give your son some credit."

"What, so you're suggesting that Gus knew this was going to happen? That it was his own fault?"

"No. But Gus knew very well what he let himself in for. Don't you think that the first thing I did when I got to know what case Shawn was working on was to tell him to stay out of it?"

"And he didn't, did he?" Winnie advanced on Henry, index finger outstretched and pointing at him.

"Shawn didn't stay out of the case despite your warning. He threw caution in the wind, he threw all good reason overboard and he worked this case. And now my son has been nearly beaten to death because of it."

Henry knew that it was useless to try and talk reason into Winnie right now. But still he tried. He had to try.

"I talked to Gus about this, Winnie. The day their office was broken into, I talked to Gus about it."

"Somebody broke into the office?"

Henry sighed. He understood why Gus hadn't told his parents what they were working on, or what had happened during the case. But it didn't make things easier right now.

"Yes, the office got broken into, ransacked and spray painted with racist crap. And now you should maybe ask yourself why Gus didn't tell you about it. But the day it happened, I talked to Gus, and I told him to stay out of the case."

Now it was Winnie's turn to shake her head, but Henry didn't give her time to interrupt him.

"I talked to Gus alone, and I told him that I thought it was better if he and Shawn dropped the case. And Gus said that he wanted to work this case. Gus didn't want to treat this case different from any other case they worked on. He doesn't let Shawn drag him into things blindly, Winnie. They're no longer ten years old. You're underestimating how much Gus is aware of the dangers of what they're doing. Or how much he's involved in the decisions. He's thirty years old, for crying out loud! Stop babying him, and stop placing all the blame for everything that happens to Gus on Shawn! Gus is old enough to make his own decisions."

Winnie was standing only inches away from Henry right now, her outstretched index finger still pointed at his chin. Bill was standing a little to the side, helplessly looking at his wife as if he could make his wife back down by staring at her pleadingly. But over thirty years of marriage didn't seem to have evolved his ability at communicating with his wife telepathically.

Winnie probably wasn't even aware that her husband was standing beside her.

"Believe whatever you want to believe, Henry. But what happened most certainly wasn't Gus' fault."

"No, but neither was it Shawn's!"

Henry threw his hands in the air in frustration and turned away from Winnie. This was not going to help. With a sigh, he ran his hands over his face.

"Listen Winnie. I know that you're angry because this happened to Gus, and that you want to protect him from further harm because you couldn't protect him from this. But you don't need to protect him from Shawn. Just ask yourself what Gus would want."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's Gus we should think of now, isn't it? So maybe you should consider what he wants. Don't you think he'd want Shawn to visit him?"

Winnie crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Right now Gus needs his rest."

"No, right now he needs the people close to him around. I know you don't approve of Shawn, but this isn't about you. It's about Gus, and whether you like it or not, Gus needs Shawn around right now just as much as he needs you. And Shawn needs to see Gus. He watched the whole thing happen Winnie. He was there when those people beat Gus up. The kid is barely hanging on right now, he doesn't need a discussion about whether or not he's allowed to see Gus. They're practically brothers, Winnie."

Winnie uncrossed her arms and let them drop loosely by her sides. "I want what's best for my son right now."

Henry nodded. "I know Winnie. So do I. So how about we do what's best for both our sons and let Shawn in to see Gus for a few minutes."

Bill put a hand on his wife's arm. "I think Henry is right, Winnie."

Winnie bit her lip and shook her head, but after a few moments she nodded. "All right. I guess Shawn can go in and see Gus for a few minutes."

Henry nodded. "Thanks Winnie."

At that moment, the double glass doors to the ICU opened and a nurse came out. "Mr. and Mrs. Guster? You can come in now. I'll help you gown up."

"I'll find Shawn and bring him up here."

Bill nodded, then he put an arm around his wife's shoulders and they followed the nurse through the door into the ICU. Henry watched the door close behind them, then he turned towards the staircase. Now he only needed to find Shawn.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

This wasn't Gus.

Shawn didn't know what had happened between his father and the Gusters that had made Mrs. Guster change her mind, but something had. There was no other explanation as to why Mrs. Guster had reconsidered her decision and had allowed Shawn fifteen of the precious sixty afternoon minutes with his friend.

All he knew was that his father had found him sitting on the stairs one floor down from the ICU and had told him to come upstairs again. And forty minutes later the Gusters had come out of the ICU and Shawn had been allowed to go in. Mr. Guster had nodded at him as they had passed, but Mrs. Guster hadn't even met his eyes.

A nurse had helped Shawn shrug into one of those green sterile gowns, then she had led him over to the small cubicle where Gus' bed was.

Only that this wasn't Gus.

For a long moment, Shawn just stood and stared down at the body on the bed. There was a minute resemblance to his friend, but still it was hard to believe that this was Gus.

Gus wasn't this still.

He wasn't this pale, despite his dark skin. And he wasn't this lifeless.

A thin sheet covered Gus up to his chest, and all kinds of tubes and catheters were sneaking out from underneath it. Sensors on Gus' chest were monitoring his heartbeat, transporting it onto one of the many monitors surrounding Gus' bed where it became visible as a green spiky line.

It was impossible to tell how many lines Gus was hooked up to. Different lines for each of the meds, all running together in a central line in Gus' neck.

But Shawn barely cast more than a fleeting glance at all the lines and sensors in and attached to various parts of Gus' body, and neither at all the machinery standing around the bed. It was a startling amount of machines and things Gus was hooked up to, but Shawn found his eyes drawn to his friend's face.

Or what he thought was supposed to be Gus' face.

Gus' head was wrapped in a white bandage which covered the place where the doctors had cup open his skull because of the bleeding. But what was visible of Gus' face simply didn't look like Gus' face.

Both his eyes were swollen shut, the right one worse than the left. His broken nose had been set, but that, too, was still swollen grotesquely. The right side of Gus' jaw was bruised, and it looked as if he has stuffed an entire chicken egg deeply into his right cheek.

It was as if his whole face was swollen in all possible places, some parts worse than others, and if Shawn hadn't known for sure that it was Gus, he wouldn't have recognized his best friend.

There was a tube going into Gus' nose, the purpose of which Shawn didn't know. And the tube of the ventilator that was forcing air into Gus' lungs was sticking obscenely out of his friend's mouth. Each breath was accompanied by a mechanical hiss, and not even the regular rise and fall of Gus' chest had any comforting effect on Shawn. Without that machine, Gus wouldn't be breathing at all. Whether or not that was because of the artificial sedation, there was no room for comfort in that thought.

Slowly, Shawn stepped up to the bed.

The doctor had said that Gus would probably notice what was going on around him. That it would help to talk to him. The problem only was that it wasn't that easy. What was Shawn supposed to say? He never had a problem talking to Gus, but then he had never been forced to talk to an unconscious Gus before. Well, there had been that one time in Mexico, but that had been different. And it had been drunken stupor rather than real unconsciousness. And despite all of Gus' whining and bitching about it, Mexico had been fun.

This most certainly wasn't.

"Dude," Shawn finally forced out in a hoarse voice as he stepped up right next to the bed. "I'm sorry."

He only hoped that the doctor had been right and Gus could really hear him. If he did, he certainly didn't react.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't stop them. They were worried that I'd find them. It was never about you, but still you're the one who got hurt."

This was beyond awkward. Despite all the beeps and hisses of the machinery, Shawn's words were echoing hollowly in the silence of the room. It was a weird one-sided conversation. Probably the nurses here in the ICU were used to it, but still Shawn found it a bit embarrassing to stand beside his friend's bed and apologize, especially since Gus gave no indication that he was able to hear him.

The strange thing was that despite all the weirdness of the situation, once he had started talking the words just seemed to tumble out one after another.

"Your mother blames me. What else is new? But that's all right. I mean, I don't blame her. It's my fault that you're lying here now, she's right about that. I just…" Shawn swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "Dude, you have to wake up, okay? This doesn't work without you. I can't think straight. I need you around to keep me grounded. So whatever you do, you better wake up again quickly."

Shawn shook his head and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. The gown they had made him wear made a rustling sound with every movement.

"It's beyond weird right now. Your mom is going nuts. My Dad is suddenly walking on eggshells around me. And your parents called Billy. That should be a reason to wake up, right? You haven't seen him in ages, and you've always been complaining that he's living too far away. And its definitely been far too long since we've last played a practical joke on him. I'm going to need your help to come up with something. You know what a whiner he can be if things backfire. We've got to think up something really good."

"Sir?"

Shawn turned around towards the nurse standing a few feet behind him.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Guster really needs his rest now. You can come back tomorrow."

Shawn nodded. "Sure." He turned back towards the bed. "I've got to go. But I'll come back, if your Mom lets me. Hang in there, dude."

Shawn made a fist with his right hand and carefully bumped it against Gus' slack left hand. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't a real fist-bump unless Gus bumped back. Shawn withdrew his hand again and let it hang loosely beside his leg as he turned and left the ICU.

A nurse helped him undo the gown before Shawn went through the double glass doors and left the sterility and artificial light of the ICU towards the waiting room outside.

His father was still in the waiting room outside, lingering near the elevator doors with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. The Gusters were also still around, standing at the far end of the room with Dr. Hall. When Shawn came out of the doors, his father looked up from the floor and took a few steps over towards him.

"How is Gus?"

Shawn shrugged. "Don't know. He's asleep. But he looks bad."

"Winnie and Bill are still talking to Gus' doctor. I wanted to wait around to see if there's anything new."

Shawn nodded and cast a sideward glance at Gus' parents. They didn't pay him any mind, they were too focussed on Dr. Hall's words. Nevertheless, Shawn didn't want to wait around and see what Mrs. Guster's attitude towards him was like now.

"I think I'll wait in the car. I need to get some fresh air."

Henry cast a long glance at Shawn, one that made him feel extremely uncomfortable. At times he had the feeling that his father could see through him all too easily, no matter how strong a façade he put up. But after a few seconds, Henry reached into his pocket and withdrew his keys.

"I'll be down in a few minutes."

Shawn took the keys and pushed the button that called up the elevator, and a minute later he stepped out into the main lobby of the hospital. The ER waiting area was to his left, and to his right he passed the nurses' station. One nurse was manning the front desk of the hospital, but behind her desk there was a small break room for the nurses. Normally Shawn wouldn't have paid much attention to the room, but just as he passed the halfway open door something caught his eye.

A nurse was sitting at the small table, a cup of coffee in front of her, and the speed at which she was sipping the coffee suggested that she was only on a short break. Her eyes were glued to the screen of a small TV. It was only a very small screen since it was a portable TV, and the picture was grainy, but it was clear enough for Shawn to recognize the picture.

The front steps of the SBPD.

Carlton Lassiter walking down the front steps of the SBPD, to be precise, Juliet walking a few steps behind him. As soon as Lassiter exited the department, a microphone was thrust in his face.

Shawn stopped and peered through the open doorway. It wasn't a live feed, the tagline at the bottom of the screen declared that it was a scene from this morning. The TV was standing close enough to the door so that Shawn could hear the barrage of questions that started as soon as Lassiter exited the department. One voice was audible above all others.

"Detective Lassiter, Kara Bernadotti from WXSB. A short statement for our viewers please."

There was a cut to Lassiter's face as he glared angrily into the camera.

"No comment."

The camera cut back to Kara Bernadotti's heavily makeup covered face. "What does the SBPD have to say to this most recent racist attack?"

Lassiter's glare as the camera cut back deepened, and he attempted to push his way through the reporters towards his car.

"No comment."

"Do you treat this case differently, now that it has become personal and a consultant for the department has been attacked?"

"No comment."

"Detective, do you have any new leads in this case?"

"Just let me do my work, you won't get any comment from me."

It was obvious that Lassiter's patience was wearing thin, but Kara Bernadotti didn't seem to care. She kept her microphone thrust in Lassiter's face as she and her cameraman hurried to keep up with him.

"What can you tell us on Mr. Guster's condition? Is he going to be all right, or will there be any permanent damage?"

Lassiter turned mid-step and glared at the reporter. "I don't care! Do I have to spell it out for you? I don't give a damn about it!"

Shawn stared for a moment, thinking he must have heard wrong. But even though there was a shot of Lassiter and Juliet getting into the car, and then a cut back to Kara Bernadotti speaking into the camera, Shawn didn't hear anything over the sound of blood pounding in his own ears.

I don't care.

The edges of Shawn's vision turned black.

I don't give a damn.

Shawn turned and started walking towards the front doors.

That bastard.

Gus was in a coma and Lassiter had nothing better to do than declare for the whole city to hear that he didn't give a damn about it.

Shawn didn't think that the whole world had to stop spinning for everybody now that Gus was in hospital, but that just topped it all. Gus had earned better than this. Lassiter wasn't going to get through with that. Not for as long as Shawn had some say in it.

His field of vision was limited to the sliding glass doors of the hospital entrance, and as soon as he stepped out into the bright afternoon sun he hurried over towards his father's truck.

Lassiter was going to pay for that.

Shawn got into the truck, revved up the engine and pulled the truck out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Lassiter would regret that he had said that.

He was going to regret it bitterly.

Chapter 13 – If my mind is a jigsaw puzzle, someone took the corner pieces

Shawn parked the truck across two parking spaces on the lot at the police station and got out without bothering to lock the truck up.

His field of vision was limited to the front entrance of the station. If a horde of elephants had walked past him right now he'd not have noticed. In fact, he didn't even remember much of the drive to the station. The fact that he didn't remember anything but the sound of a few car horns honking at him spoke volumes about his condition to drive a car. He was in no condition to drive, that was a fact.

But he had gotten here in one piece.

And now he had more important things on his mind.

Like finding Lassiter.

Shawn pushed open the doors to the station and brushed past the sergeant manning the reception desk without so much as a sideward glance. In fact, he didn't see him, not even as the man got up from his chair and stared after the resident psychic as he stormed into the station without waiting to get the obligatory visitor's pass.

There was no room for the man in Shawn's tunnel vision.

There wasn't room for anything but avoiding the most obvious obstacles in his way as he stormed along the corridor towards the head detective's desk. The thought that Lassiter might be out following up on leads didn't even cross his mind.

And he wasn't.

Shawn didn't hear the greetings and slightly startled questions that some officers called out to him as he brushed past them. He didn't see the surprised gazes of the people he passed.

All he saw was Lassiter's face.

I don't care.

As soon as his eyes locked on the head detective, bent over a file on his desk, Shawn stopped blinking. He stopped thinking. He might have even stopped breathing.

I don't give a damn.

Lassiter's earlier words were the only thing he could hear, echoing through his head again and again and again.

I don't care. I don't give a damn.

Well, tough luck there. Because Shawn cared quite a lot. He gave more than just a damn.

Lassiter looked up, a slightly startled expression on his face, as Shawn's steps came hurrying towards his desk. At first his eyes narrowed in the usual suspicious and antagonistic way that they always narrowed when he was confronted with Shawn. But there must have been something in Shawn's face, something that was different than normal.

Lassiter's narrowed eyes widened just as Shawn had finally reached the desk.

Shawn didn't care about what Lassiter was thinking. He had made that perfectly clear in his TV-interview, there was no need for any further talking.

Lassiter saw the blow coming a split second after Shawn drew back his fist.

Too late to evade it.

Much too late to stop Shawn.

Barely in time to move his head slightly to the side.

It was pure satisfaction when Shawn felt his fist connect with Lassiter's face. Not strong enough to knock the detective out. But it was a satisfying feeling when his knuckles hit flesh and he saw Lassiter stumble back from the force of the blow.

Lassiter clasped both hands in front of his face, but Shawn had seen the blood running down his face from his nose.

"Spencer, what in blazes…"

"You bastard!" Shawn yelled over the detective's muffled voice and pulled his hand back for another punch. But this time, Lassiter saw the movement of Shawn's arm in time, and before Shawn knew what was happening there was a hand clasped around his right wrist in an iron grip and he was twisted around.

The air was knocked out of his lungs as his arm was twisted around on his back and his face and chest were pressed down onto the surface of the desk. Lassiter kept a firm grip around Shawn's wrist and bent his arm upwards until it really hurt and Shawn was rendered unable to move more than an inch without dislocating his shoulder or breaking his arm.

Shawn was panting, though he had no idea from what exertion, and he couldn't help but screw his eyes tightly shut against the pain shooting up his arm. Lassiter knew what he was doing. The pain wasn't so bad that it was unbearable, but it was bad enough to make sure that Shawn wouldn't try any sudden movements.

And it helped quite a bit to clear his head.

"Spencer," Lassiter's voice sounded close to Shawn's left ear. There was pain in the voice, as well, and a nasal undertone. "I want you to listen to me, and listen carefully."

Shawn tried to move out of the detective's grasp, but yelped in pain when Lassiter moved his bent arm slightly upward, increasing the pain. A pained sound escaped Shawn's lips as he lay there with his cheek pressed against the polished wood of the desk.

"Are you listening to me, Spencer?"

Teeth gritted in pain, Shawn nodded.

"Good. I want you to listen very carefully. While it's entirely possible that you have simply snapped, I think it's a safe bet to say that you've seen the news report that WXSB has been running for the past hour. Have you?"

Again, Shawn nodded. He was breathing through his nose in small bursts in an attempt to breathe through the pain, but Lassiter was holding him in a very tight grip.

"Then let me tell you one thing, Spencer. Right now, Chief Vick is sitting in her office, talking to the director of WXSB, demanding a counterstatement. Any child could see that this interview was cut together, Spencer. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Shawn didn't move, and Lassiter gave an exasperated sigh.

"Then let me clarify, since it seems that you're acting particularly thick today. Yes, I said what you heard on the news. But not as an answer to any question about Guster, but in response to that newswoman's constant pestering about her viewer's right to know every damn thing the police is doing. Because as much of a pain in the ass Guster and you are, I am a police officer and I know better than to let myself get carried away to give the press a statement concerning an ongoing investigation. Much less to make such a remark. My parents taught me some decency. Do you understand that, Spencer?"

Shawn bit his lip and gave a short nod.

"Good. I'm going to let go of your arm now, and I swear that if you only so much as twitch wrongly I am not going to show the same restraint I'm showing now. Are we clear on that?"

Again, Shawn nodded after only a slight moment of hesitation.

"All right."

Suddenly, the grip on his wrist and the pressure on his arm and upper body was gone. Slowly, Shawn straightened up and rubbed his aching arm and shoulder.

Lassiter was standing a few feet away from him, his eyes narrowed again. The detective's nose was bleeding and swollen slightly, and he was pressing one hand against it to stem the flow of blood while he pulled a tissue out of his pocket with the other.

Shawn was startled to notice how many officers were standing around the desk, staring at him and Lassiter. Juliet was nowhere to be seen, but Buzz was standing there, slaw-jacked, with a stack of files hanging loosely from his hand. A few other officers seemed undecided between watching the spectacle and intervening, but they all were torn out of their stupor when Lassiter turned around and barked at them.

"Don't you have work to do? You don't get paid for watching!"

Suddenly everybody was very busy and they all scuttled off in various directions. Lassiter turned back towards Shawn, and not even the bloody tissue was enough to distract from the darkness of his glare in any way.

"The only reason that you're not in need of an ambulance right now is that I assume the shock about Guster's condition stops you from thinking clearly. If you're even capable of thinking clearly by anybody else's standards. But if you raise your hand against me again Spencer, I promise you that you'll regret it. I won't waste a second thought on your state of mind again. Are we clear on that?"

Shawn wasn't able of doing anything but nodding numbly.

"Good. Now you sit down here until somebody comes to take your statement."

Lassiter pointed to the chair in front of his desk, then he turned around and vanished in the direction of the bathrooms.

Shawn didn't have much choice but to do as he was told and sit down in the chair in front of Lassiter's desk. Maybe it had been the pain in his arm, or the sight of Lassiter with blood running down his face, but his head was a lot clearer now than it had been only minutes ago.

Had he really just punched Lassiter in the nose? Had he really stormed out of the hospital, taken his father's truck and driven here in a total mental oblivion, an accident waiting to happen, just to punch Lassiter? For something the detective hadn't even said?

That newswoman had already twisted his own 'interview' the way she wanted it. Shouldn't he have taken just a second to consider that she might have done the same with Lassiter's? Had the interview been about Shawn, he'd have bought the I don't give a damn without doubt. But Lassiter had never had anything against Gus. Well, nothing aside from the fact that he was Shawn's friend, but he truly didn't have any reason to make such a comment about Gus, on television no less.

He was never going to hear the end of that one. And now everybody would think he had snapped. Just great.

"Shawn!"

Shawn groaned and started to sink further into his chair. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse, the universe just had to prove him wrong. If this was what this whole karma issue was all about, Shawn wanted nothing to do with it.

Steps approached Lassiter's desk, and when they came to a stop directly next to him, Shawn had no choice but to look up. Right into his father's furious face. That was a degree of furious Shawn hadn't seen in a long time. Not the baseball through a window-furious. No, this was the full deal, including an extremely red face, narrowed eyes and that vein on Henry's forehead throbbing along with his heartbeat. That was the full this is the most idiotic thing you've ever done-furious.

"Dad."

"Don't you Dad me! What were you thinking? I waited with the Gusters for news, and when I come down and leave the hospital, the only thing I see is the taillights of my own damn car drive off the parking lot?"

"How did you find me?"

Henry threw his hands in the air in exasperation, as if that question was the most stupid question on earth.

"I got into a cab, that's what I did. I saw you driving down State Street and figured that you weren't going home. When we passed the station, I saw my car in the parking lot and got out. And now get your butt out of here and go lock the car. Or do you want it stolen?"

Shawn closed his eyes so that he wouldn't roll them. "It's the parking lot of a police station, Dad. Nobody steals cars here. Besides, no thief with a sense of honour would dare to touch the truck."

"Shawn!"

"Lassiter told me to wait. They need my statement."

Henry wordlessly stretched out his hand, and Shawn fished the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into the outstretched palm.

"No need to wait around for me."

Henry wordlessly turned around and left the station towards the parking lot. Shawn leaned back in his chair with a sigh, but was only granted a moment of peace. As if they had choreographed it, Lassiter reappeared just a few seconds after his father had left.

The detective's nose was still swollen slightly, but it had stopped bleeding and didn't look crooked. Well, not more crooked than normal, so Shawn guessed that his earlier punch hadn't broken Lassiter's nose. Buzz would probably be busy chalking Shawn's outline onto the floor right now if Lassiter only suspected his nose to be broken.

There was a dark wet spot on Lassiter's blue shirt, probably where he had rubbed off the blood that had dripped down from his face. His tie was gone, but his glare was back in place. Full force.

"Right Spencer. O'Hara isn't back yet, so I got stuck with taking your statement. Forensics worked your office last night, now we need your take on what happened. Shoot."

Shawn drew a deep breath. He had hoped for a little more preparation, and he had hoped that he'd be able to give his statement to somebody else. Anybody else but Lassiter. He was really through with all the karmic things now.

"Spencer, I don't have all day."

Shawn nodded. "All right. Gus and I were painting the office last night. At quarter past ten I decided to get us some smoothies. I was gone for ten, maybe fifteen minutes…"

Recalling what had happened was even more difficult than Shawn had thought it would be. Shawn only needed to close his eyes to be back in the office, to feel that guy's grip on his hair as he held his head in place and forced him to watch what they did to Gus. He could hear their voices in his ear as they continued to beat Gus right in front of his eyes.

"I want you to watch this carefully, psychic."

He heard Gus scream, and he felt the arms holding him back as he struggled against them holding him back.

"They all squeal like dirty pigs when you punch them around a little. Sometimes they beg, sometimes they cry."

His heart was beating fast in his chest as he tried to force those thoughts away, tried to focus on what was important for Lassiter's report. Lassiter didn't need to know what it had been like to hear the bone in Gus' leg break. Lassiter didn't need to know how he had yelled, raged and begged to get those bastards to stop.

"Look how he's pleading for that nigger's life. He really seems to care. Too bad."

Lassiter didn't need to know that for one glorious moment he had managed to get free. He didn't need to know that because it hadn't lasted longer than a second or two, and it hadn't helped Gus any.

It hadn't stopped them from beating him.

It hadn't stopped that one guy from pulling back his leg and kicking Gus in the head, breaking his skull and tearing an artery, forcing the doctors to cut open Gus' skull and put him into a coma…"

"Spencer!"

Lassiter's voice tore him out of his jumbled thoughts.

"Yes?"

The detective was watching him with a strange expression on his face.

"I asked you a question. Is there anything about the assailants that would help us find them? Anything at all?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. There's nothing."

"Thinks, Spencer. Anything, the smallest detail could help us find them."

Again, Shawn shook his head. "No, there isn't anything."

Lassiter sneered. "Don't the spirits have anything to contribute?"

Shawn drew a deep breath to stop himself from yelling at the detective. It wouldn't help right now. Not that it would help any if he kept replaying the attack on Gus over and over again.

"It were four guys. One was bulky, with a lot of muscles. 6 foot, maybe 6'1''. He was the one who…who broke Gus' leg."

Who practically jumped on Gus' leg. Who stomped on it so hard that it broke. The sound of bone breaking was worse than the sound of fingernails scraping along a blackboard, and Shawn couldn't get it out of his head.

He drew a deep breath.

"The second one was a lot slenderer. And smaller. Maybe 5'6''. He's the one who went to hold me back when the third…"

When the third went to finish Gus off. When the third went to kick Gus in the head.

"The third guy was smaller than the bulky one. 5'10'', about that. And slender, but muscular. Like an athlete of some kind. I never got a good look at the fourth guy. About as tall as me, I'd say. But I never even looked at him. They were all wearing dark clothes, and ski masks. I couldn't see their faces."

"Hair colour? Eye colour? Anything?"

Dark blue eyes that were only inches apart form his own flashed into Shawn's vision.

"Blue eyes. The third guy had blue eyes. But I don't remember anything else. That's all I can tell you."

Lassiter watched Shawn for a few long seconds as if he didn't believe that to be true, but then he nodded.

"All right. If there is anything else you remember, call. We have little enough to go on, and the forensics report will take a while yet to come in."

Shawn nodded. "All right."

Lassiter put his pen down on his notebook and leaned back in his chair. "Are there any news on Guster's condition?"

Shawn was slightly taken aback by that question. Not that he thought Lassiter didn't care, at least not with a clear head and no news broadcast to fuel his imagination. But he had figured that Chief Vick and the detectives were kept in the loop by someone.

"Nothing really new. They say he's stable. But the doctors don't know yet what will be once he wakes up."

Lassiter nodded again, his face not betraying what he was thinking.

"All right Spencer, that was it. You can go now."

Shawn got up from his chair and turned around, only to stop short. His father was standing just a few feet behind him, leaning against a wall with his shoulder and his arms crossed in front of his chest. The way he was standing, he had been in Lassiter's line of vision all along. And he was definitely standing close enough to have heard every word Shawn had said.

"Dad, what are you still doing here?"

Henry shrugged. "I figured you needed a ride. You know, it's considered impolite to leave people stranded somewhere."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Message received. But there is such a thing as privacy, you know? I don't think you're supposed to listen in on witness statements."

Henry shrugged as he started walking down the corridor.

"Lassiter had the chance to kick me out but didn't. And it's not as if you had told anything new."

Shawn stopped with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on kid. I taught you better than that. I've heard distraught housewives give more accurate statements than you did just now."

"Well, I'm sorry that I've disappointed your expectations yet again, but it is a bit hard to remember a lot of details about four masked guys who beat Gus into a coma. I was a little preoccupied while it happened, okay?"

Henry shook his head and stopped for a moment to return his visitor's pass at the front desk. When they stepped out of the police station, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned to look at Shawn.

"We both know that you remember a lot more than you just told Lassiter. A whole lot more. You only need to focus and think."

Shawn shook his head and turned towards the truck. It was parked legally in one parking space now and not straight across two, which meant that his Dad had taken the time to move the car earlier.

"I can't, Dad. You won't understand, but I can't think back on this. And I don't want to focus. I've been through it once, I have no intention to revisit it."

Henry shook his head as he unlocked the truck. "That's not going to help anybody, Shawn. What happened to Gus happened. If you pretend it didn't, you certainly won't help Gus. But if you focus just a little, I'm sure that there's something you've noticed which can put the police on the right track."

Shawn drew a breath to reply, but at that moment Henry's cell phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket.

"Hello? Oh, hello Bill."

Shawn felt his heart drop to a position somewhere between his knees where it was joined by his stomach. If Gus' father called his Dad, it had to be news about Gus. And right now, Shawn had the feeling that news about Gus were not good news.

His father listened intently for maybe a minute, then he shook his head.

"It's no problem, Bill. Seriously. I can be there in half an hour. Sure. No need to thank me, Bill. Bye."

Henry flipped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"That was Bill."

No kidding. Now that was a surprise, seeing that his father had used the man's name three times in as many sentences.

"Is anything wrong with Gus?"

Henry shook his head. "No, it was not about Gus. Come on, get into the car."

Shawn climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and closed the door. But he was still confused about the phone call. After buckling his seat belt, he looked over towards his father.

"So if Mr. Guster didn't call with any news, then what was this call about?"

Henry put the truck into gear and drove off the parking lot before he answered.

"I told Winnie and Bill to call if there was anything I could do. It seems that Bill finally convinced Winnie to try and get some rest. But now Billy called to say that he got an earlier connection from Los Angeles. He'll be landing in forty minutes, and Bill doesn't want to leave Winnie on her own right now."

Shawn frowned. "So what? We're going to the airport?"

Henry nodded. "Yes. We're going to pick up Billy."

Shawn leaned back in his seat with a sigh. Picking up Billy was good and fine, but picking him up and delivering him at his parents' house also meant another meeting with Mrs. Guster. And surely she wouldn't be asleep anymore by the time her younger son returned.

Maybe there was a chance that he could stay in the car.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance that Billy wouldn't react the same way that his mother had reacted to seeing him.

He'd just have to wait and see. He'd know more in a bit less than an hour.

Thanks for reading and as always, please let me know what you think. Thank you.