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I'M SO SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG! I KNOW I PROMISED BUT I'VE BEEN HAVING SO MUCH TROUBLE GETTING MYSELF TO SIT DOWN AND WRITE NOW THAT IT'S SUMMER :( BUT I PROMISE CHAPTER 15 WILL BE UPLOADED BY NEXT THURSDAY! -DEADLINES SHOULD HELP :)

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"Bring him up, partner." Nicky directed, as he would during a follow up with dispatch.

Chris stifled a smile, as he rolled his eyes. "I'm not even there yet. Just five more minutes. Do you think you can wait that long?"

He hung up the cell phone and tossed it on top of the dashboard. He didn't feel that smiling was appropriate, because the nervousness of his passenger was radiating next to him. He could feel the tension as he leaned over and folded his hand over his stiff shoulder. "It's going to be fine." He assured him, though hoping that Nicky's blatant attempt to cheer up Shawn wouldn't hit the fan.

All he did was shrug in response. Turning his attention to the hospital which grew into further focal point as they pulled into the parking lot, he asked: "Do you think he'll like me?"

Shawn looked from Nicky to Jonathon with skepticism, unable to believe that this man knew what good news would be for him. Shawn, himself, was even unsure what good news would be. His mind seemed to be in a place that he didn't recognize.

His wanting to die was new and fresh, but this place was even more unfamiliar. He was stuck in a fog and couldn't find his way out, his way home to familiarity, or himself. He didn't know where he was. He was lost and no one, not even Jonathon, could save him.

Nicky stuffed his cellular phone into his back pocket, with a big grin on his face. "It'll just take a minute." He couldn't have sounded more cheerful.

"Did you know this was happening?" Shawn asked Jonathon, questioning the amount of approval 'Plan Cheer up Shawn' had been given.

Jonathon looked just as confused as Shawn felt, and shook his head as he opened his mouth to speak.

Nicky cut him off, eagerly, as he backed into the hallway watching both ways for Chris. "Don't say anything yet. Just wait! You'll like this. I promise." He couldn't keep the smile off his face and it made Shawn anxious with curiosity.

His mind was wandering to places that it shouldn't go. He was playing a guessing game that would only bring him to disappointment and pain. Someone had come to see him. A he had come to see him. Could it be Cory? Uncle Mike? Dad? He cringed at the possibility of the last one. Not just the possibility but the thought of his father after what he'd done. It reminded him that he messed things up for good.

After he had sent Cory away with the letter that he brought to Chet's attorney, Shawn balanced the phone cradle in his lap while he dialed the number of the prison. Finally hearing his father's voice questioning the prison guard on the other end who was calling, he placed the phone to his ear and spoke nonchalantly to his young son.

"Hello?" It flowed quickly through the phone and continued to ring in Shawn's ear.

"Dad," His own voice hoarse with emotion, he cleared it and continued off the prepared speech in front of him. "I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have said those things to Jon and the police. I know you would never hurt me. I'm gonna tell them that I lied. I can't live with the guilt anymore…with what I did to you. You're not the problem, I am. I'm a liar and I'm putting a stop to all these lies right now. I'm so sorry! Will you forgive me?"

There was silence on the other end and Shawn wondered if he had hung up on him. Knowing that his father sat in a jail cell day after day thinking about how he got there sent shivers down Shawn's spine. It was his fault and no matter what anybody told him, nothing changed the fear that Shawn felt for Chet. If he ever got out he would kill him. If he ever got his hands on him he knew the pain to expect of his slow death, having been brought so close many beatings before.

But he also couldn't live with Chet despising him. It ate at him. It tortured him until there was no escaping him just the same as if he had him painfully pinned under his weight. Which was just another reason to take his life and end the hurt of himself and everyone that he caused to hurt.

"Shawn-y? What are you sayin', boy?" He finally asked after a moment's silence.

Shawn shook with relief, having been expecting his father to be angry. "I didn't mean to hurt you. They told me they could make me better and give me a better life. But I miss you and I was so wrong to go against you like I did. You did everything for me and I shouldn't have said those things. I lied." He felt sick as he said it. "Just please tell me you forgive me, Pop!"

"Boy…are you saying that I'll go free?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm going to tell them I lied." He nodded, feeling his father's excitement as if it were radiating through the phone.

"Well, that's great! Finally! Boy, it's been hell in here." Chet was almost singing. "Now, as for yer lyin', well you didn't learn that from yer old man." His voice dropped in tone and though it was still disguised in a friendly conversational manner, Shawn could feel the hidden threat.

He answered quickly. "No, Sir. But please, please forgive me, Dad!"

"Now, now. I dunno about that, boy. Maybe after I see some punishment." The emphasis on his last word is what got him to the rooftop.

"Dad, I'm so sorry and I love you. I forgive you!" He added as he slammed down the phone into its cradle and broke into sobs.

Now that Shawn was still alive and his confession was still on the table, Chet was the worst threat that Shawn faced, even above Eddie's vengeful buddies.

But it wasn't Chet who Nicky gleefully led into his room. He was tall with his brown hair styled into spikes at the front, slightly messy like he had done it on purpose. His clothes were neat, dressed in a collared long sleeve, a pair of expensive looking slacks sitting smartly over a pair of black leather lace-ups.

It took Shawn a minute to place this familiar face to a name and point of relevance to him, but once he did, it was clear that this surprise was far from a good thing. "What are you doing here?" He spat, shooting Nicky the best glare he could muster.

Jonathon, left in the dark, became even more confused at Shawn's reaction. "How do you two know each other?" He asked pointing his finger back and forth between them.

Shawn held his glare unblinkingly at his visitor. "He's my brother. Same dad different moms. His mom bailed on my dad years ago, found a guy with a few bucks. Guess they kept Jack pretty busy. We haven't heard from him." He said coldly, not caring about sounding ungrateful.

Jack Hunter stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. "That's not exactly how it happened." He looked around, assuring them.

"Whatever, Jack."

He stepped closer, releasing a shaky breath. "Look, Shawn. I think we need to talk, okay?"

"You turned your back on your father…and on me! So, there, we've talked." Shawn scoffed, dismissing him.

Jack shook his head. Just before bolting out the door, he tossed a stack of sports magazines on Shawn's bed, with a 'Get Better Soon' card attached to the front by a curly piece of blue ribbon tied around them.

"So you really didn't think this through, did you?" Jonathon guessed, watching the eighteen year old from across the hall.

Nicky ran a clenched hand through his blonde hair, anxiously. "Come on. Don't lecture me, alright? He's his brother. When I finally got a hold of him and he told me he wasn't really affiliated with Chet, I thought reuniting him with Shawn would be good for the both of them. I really didn't think about –"

"Asking me first? Asking Shawn about his feelings toward Jack before bringing him to his bedside? The possibility that there might be a reason that the two haven't spoken?" Jonathon listed, able to think of a dozen reasons why Nicky should have come to him with this bright idea before shoving it in Shawn's face. The number one reason circulated his thoughts like a wheel: he's not your kid.

He turned to the window, the curtain pulled so he couldn't actually see Shawn on the other side, but he stared at it as if he could. "Do you think they'll work it out?"

A soft, yet raspy voice intruded on their conversation. "Work it out? I think it's pretty clear that Shawn wants nothing to do with me. I feel like such a moron."

"Hey, don't…" Nicky shook his head, his face growing red. "This is my fault. Don't blame yourself."

"There's something you need to understand about Shawn. He's been through a lot, especially lately." Jonathon tried, not entirely sure he understood Shawn's resentment toward the boy.

"Is this why me and my mom have been getting all these question about Che… I mean, my dad? Did he hurt Shawn?" Without giving the men a chance to respond, Jack blinked a few times then fired off another question. "Is that why he's in the hospital?" There was a hint of fear in his voice.

Nicky looked to Jonathon, his action more sarcastic than admitting that it should be Jonathon's choice of response.

"Well, um…" Jonathon hesitated, watching Jack's intense eyes boring into him.

The sun was blinding that afternoon and Doug Hicks was happy to have scored himself a spot in the shade. It wasn't often that he would find the only shaded picnic table in the entire cemented courtyard available, but this seemed to be his lucky day.

Even with the grand weather streak bringing out the majority of the inmates on break hour, the others seemed to be on their feet and crowded together as they encircled the fenced in area. He noticed that they favoured the centre, perhaps avoiding the large prison guards that littered the perimeter with rifles in hand.

No one bothered Doug at the back end of the yard and he had no complaints about that. It was definitely his lucky day, he noted, since there was only one other inmate on his own at the centre of their encirclement.

Doug knew what that meant. He saw it every day. He heard it every night. There were some things that people couldn't escape from. No matter how bad a guy was, there was always someone badder. And in this place, he would feel his full wrath and finally be punished.

Since he knew he wasn't to be the target, he drew himself closer to the prowling, hoping to catch a glimpse of the victim. The other solo inmate sat crouched over in the sun. Doug bet that he wished he had found his spot in the shade. He had dark eyes from a distance, which only translated to bruises and red lips told of sucker punches even though they were swollen shut.

Doug had no remorse for the demise of this particular inmate. He was loud and arrogant and rude. He sang songs at night when he was trying to sleep. He stole others' food when he wanted more. He cornered the weak and formed a gang. But most importantly, Doug heard the rumour about him and deemed him fit for the worst punishment they could give him.

And then the cat calls began.

"Hey, Richmond! I hear ya like suckin' cock!"

"I hear ya like 'em small, Richmond!"

"I hear ya like little boys!"

There was a lot of yelling as the swarm of men dressed in orange closed in around Eddie Richmond in a tight ring. He heard yelps and screams, and a loud pop of a rifle that sent only Doug scampering back to his shaded corner. The volume only heightened as his eyes followed a stream of red escaping the crowd and flowing toward the sewer.

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