Chapter Fourteen: I Won't Let Go

"It's like a storm that cuts a path, it breaks your will, it feels like that"

Shawn slowly woke up the next morning to an annoying headache and the sound of two people arguing downstairs. It sounded like his dad and Gus, but that didn't make any sense. They didn't argue. They agreed on everything, especially if it had to do with him. They had agreed that Shawn should move back in with Henry, that he should continue to work at Psych and for the police department, and that Gus should take every opportunity to introduce him to aspects of his life in the hopes it might trigger a memory. But they didn't argue.

Shawn gently moved his fingers across his temples, trying to alleviate the slight pressure that had begun to build up there. It had gotten worse since his lunch with Juliet yesterday, and he was sure that it had something to do with his feelings for her. Or maybe it was just a memory trying to push its way to the surface. Whatever it was, he really just wished that it would stop. The sound of angry voices drifted up the stairs again, and he decided that he had better go see what was going on, so he quickly got dressed and headed silently down the stairs, trying to catch bits of the conversation as he went.

"I don't think it's a good idea Gus."

That was his dad, and he was clearly aggravated by something.

"But you said that anything could help trigger a memory. That Norton is part of who Shawn is, and you know it."

Definitely Gus, and he sounded just as aggravated, although maybe a little nervous and uncertain as well. Shawn wondered who 'Norton' was.

"No. I refuse to ever let that death trap come within sight of this house, it's not going to happen Gus."

"Just once," Gus was begging now, "then if it doesn't work I'll go put it in storage with the rest of his things. It's got to be worth a try."

Henry didn't answer, and Shawn was grateful for the silence. Their voices were definitely not helping his headache. But he wanted to know what they were talking about, so after one last rub at his aching head, he descended the remainder of the stairs and entered the kitchen.

"Morning dad, Gus. What's worth a try?"

His father shot an angry glare at Gus, and Gus looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Nothing Shawn." Henry answered.

Shawn looked between Gus and his father, trying to read off of their reactions. Gus glanced nervously between Shawn and Henry, and Henry shot Gus and Shawn angry glares that clearly portrayed his feelings on the subject, whatever it was. For his part Shawn was more than slightly confused.

"Ok...but then who is Norton?"

Henry snorted.

"Norton isn't a person Shawn, it's your motorcycle." Gus tried to explain

"I named my bike?" Shawn asked, "isn't that a little creepy? I must have really loved that thing."

Henry just shook his head, continuing to glare at Gus as he continued to explain.

"No, you didn't name your bike, that's what kind of bike it is Shawn."

"Oh, well that makes more sense I guess, not quite as exciting though," he paused, glancing over to his father, who was still glaring daggers at Gus, "You don't want me to drive it do you?" he asked.

"No Shawn, I don't. I never wanted you to drive that thing, but you never listened when I told you..."

Henry stopped himself before he could launch into another rant, he knew it was pointless, Shawn wouldn't know what he was talking about anyways. Shawn could see the sudden hurt fill his father's eyes. It was that same look that interrupted all of the happy moments they had experienced since Shawn had got out of the hospital. It was the look that Henry got every time he realized that Shawn didn't remember something. It was disappointment, although whether it was disappointment at Shawn's actions, or was simply because Henry missed his son, Shawn could never tell. But there was something else, something different in Henry's face now. There was more to this than the usual sadness Henry felt whenever Shawn failed to remember something. Shawn knew that a motorcycle accident was the cause of his memory loss, but his father rarely spoke of it, and hadn't ever mentioned the fact that the bike was still fixable, or that he had ever had one before. So Shawn put the pieces together.

"We argued about it a lot didn't we?"

Henry looked up and met Shawn's gaze, still slightly amazed at how perceptive his son was. He had never fully realized how much of his son's gifts were pure, raw talent that had nothing to do with Henry's years of training.

"Yeah we argued. You'd always do whatever you wanted anyways." Henry answered gruffly.

"We argued about it that night, the night I had my accident?"

Henry only nodded, Gus looked over at Henry in disbelief.

"You never told him?" Gus demanded.

"Told me what?" Shawn asked, a puzzled look coming over his face.

"Not now Gus," Henry stated flatly, narrowing a look on Gus that clearly said there was not to be another word uttered if Gus wanted to make it out of the house in one piece.

Gus looked like he wanted to say more, but Henry continued to stare at him until Gus finally let out the breath he had been holding and deflated right in front of Shawn's eyes. Henry gave a satisfied nod and returned to fixing breakfast.

"Does anyone want to tell me what exactly is going on?" Shawn asked, frustrated at the obvious fact that both men were keeping something from him. And based on their reactions, it was something important.

Gus didn't say anything, he just continued to stare at Henry. Shawn knew that look, he had seen it a few times now. It meant that Gus was not about to help his father out of a situation that he clearly believed was solely Henry's creation.

"Not now kid," said Henry, handing Shawn a plate of food, "Why don't you just eat your breakfast, you're going to be late if you don't hurry."

Realizing that he wasn't going to get anything else out of his father right now, Shawn dropped into a chair at the table. He wasn't really hungry, his headache taking away most of his appetite, but he knew that if he didn't eat something Henry would get suspicious, and he didn't want to cause anymore problems right now. So he picked at his food until Henry grumbled at him to get going before he wasted more of the day.

Shawn was quiet today, and it was bothering Juliet. He had barely said anything to her since their conversation at lunch yesterday and she was concerned that she had gone too far. They were currently on their way to check out a crime scene that was located out of town a few miles, and as the Chief had requested, Shawn was tagging along. But there was definitely something off about him today, she could feel it. Juliet kept look back to check on him, and each time he was just sitting there, leaning his head against the side of the window and shielding his eyes. Maybe he was just tired, but she had a feeling that it was something more. She vaguely recalled the tensed and pinched look that she had noticed on his face the day before and wondered if that was the cause of his current withdrawn silence. It was definitely better than the alternative, that he was hurt over what she had said to him yesterday.

"Are you feeling alright Shawn?" she asked, turning around in her seat to get a better look, unable to ignore his silence any longer.

"Huh?" asked Shawn, opening his eyes to see Juliet's concerned face staring at him, "Oh, yeah I'm fine."

Lassiter took a quick look back at their passenger, his usual scowl fixed on his face ,although now Shawn knew that it was more for show than anything else.

"He's being quiet…for a change, let's just enjoy it O'Hara."

Juliet shot a glare at her partner.

"Carlton."

Lassiter looked at her and let out a sigh.

"Alright, I'm sorry," he said to Juliet before addressing Shawn over his shoulder, "Spencer, if you're not feeling well you need to let us know so we can drop you off with your father, or Guster."

"I'm fine, detective, really." Shawn answered quietly from the back seat.

"There…see O'Hara, he says he's fine. So let's just enjoy the silence while we can. God knows when his memories are going to start coming back and then we won't be able to shut him up again."

Juliet frowned at Lassiter, she didn't know why he was being so insensitive, but she guessed that as long as Shawn said he was fine, there was nothing she could do about it but keep an eye on him. So she turned back around in her seat and tried to occupy herself with staring out the window at the passing streets.

As silence settled back over the car, Shawn once again leaned his head against the car window. The surface was cool and was providing some relief to his throbbing head, despite the continued vibrations he could feel as the car hummed along the road. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and Shawn took the opportunity to watch as his surroundings disappeared behind him. The headache that had started yesterday had only continued to grow in intensity overnight, and was now a constant pounding in his head.

He continued to look out the window for several minutes, until the blur of objects past his sight began to swarm and meld together in a dizzying blur. Then he closed his eyes again, revelling in the soothing feel of the car speeding along the open road. Shawn didn't know why, but this feeling soothed him more than anything else had. It soothed him more than the cool window, more than the comforting words and the fruitless attempts to help him remember, even more than the odd satisfaction he got whenever Juliet was around. It reached down deep inside of him and settled everything, giving him a true sense of happiness, and for the first time since he had woken up to this strange new existence, Shawn felt at peace with himself. At least until his head decided to kick up the torment another notch.

Shawn risked opening his eyes again just as they rounded a corner in the road. As his vision swan and struggled to focus, he caught a glimpse of a road sign, leaning slightly off center on the shoulder of the road. Suddenly, a searing hot flash of pain erupted across his head, almost causing Shawn to gasp aloud at the intensity of it. He quickly clenched his eyes shut tight, and as yellow dots flashed painfully across his vision. He watched as two of them seemed hover together, the distinct outline of some type of animal forming around them. Shawn starred at the image that had formed behind his closed eyelids for a moment before a vision of him gliding through a black, cold and wet world flashed across his mind. It lasted a fraction of a second before Shawn had the distinct feeling that he was then launched into dark, swirling sky around him.

Shawn didn't know that Lassiter had just passed the exact spot where he had crashed his bike months earlier. No one had actually told him what had happened that night. Henry wasn't ready to talk about it yet, and everyone else silently agreed that it should be up to Henry to at least tell Shawn about the crash and the events that followed. So Shawn had no idea what the images that had just flashed across his mind could possibly mean, and frankly, he was in too much agony to care. Instead, he focused on taking long deep breaths, trying to lessen the merciless pounding in his head.

The rapid blur of objects flashing by the windows of the car had not helped any, nor had the bright glare from the sun earlier. The pain had barely allowed him to touch his breakfast that morning, and he spent the rest of ride either shielding his eyes from the world outside the vehicle, or closing them altogether to keep the nausea at bay. He concentrated on taking long, deep breaths, trying hard not to think about anything.

They arrived at the crime scene after what seemed like hours in the car to Shawn, but was probably no longer than twenty or thirty minutes later. This had to be more than just a simple headache, and it was definitely getting harder and harder to concentrate. The pressure in his head was now slightly less than unbearable. But he really didn't want to worry anyone. They all worried about him too much as it was. He could get through this, and then go home and rest. At least that's what he told himself, but it was becoming increasingly hard to carry on as though nothing was wrong.

When Lassiter parked the car out in front of the house of the murder victim they were investigating, Shawn gingerly eased himself out of the car, not failing to notice how Juliet watched him with a concerned look on her face. He had soon forgotten his conversation with her yesterday, as the pounding in his head had increased and demanded all of his attention. He put on a brave face, hoping to throw Juliet off long enough to get into the house where she would hopefully become engaged in the investigation, leaving him free from her prying eyes. He squinted his eyes as close to shut as he could get them and put his hand up to shield out the rest of the sun as he followed closely behind Juliet.

It worked and Shawn made it into the house without arousing further suspicion. He continued to follow Juliet and entered the room where the victim was right behind her. Thinking he was safe from the effects of the harsh outdoor light, Shawn stopped and opened his eyes to look at his surroundings.

He was immediately assaulted by the details surrounding him, and despite the pain in his head, his mind raced ahead, drawing in any detail it could and storing it for later. He noticed the scuff marks on the floor, the disturbed dust pattern on the bookcase, the spilled water glass, and the thousand other details that leapt at him. He could no more stop the large intake of details than he could stop the continually growing pounding in his head, and his body compensated the only way that it could. Nausea flooded over Shawn in waves, and the only way he managed to stay upright and keep what little breakfast he had managed to eat in his stomach was to close his eyes while sagging backwards to lean against the wall behind him.

He continued to stand there, waiting for the waves of dizziness to leave and his stomach to settle when he felt to gentle hands come to rest on his shoulders.

"Shawn?" asked a gentle voice.

Juliet, it was Juliet. Despite everything, Shawn felt his heart flutter at her touch, and the fact that she was so near. He took in a deep steadying breath and chanced opening his eyes to look at her.

"Shawn, are you alright? You're really pale, and you're shaking. Maybe you should sit down."

Shawn nodded in agreement, but the room was still spinning around him and he knew that he would never make it anywhere that Juliet would approve of. So he simply allowed his legs to buckle underneath him and slid down the wall to the floor, a small groan escaping past his lips.

"Shawn!" Juliet called out, startled by his sudden collapse.

"It's alright Juliet," Shawn said through clenched teeth. His position on the floor was already starting to help, and he could feel the nausea slowly ebbing away, "I'm just a little dizzy. Let me sit here for a while."

Before Juliet could answer, Lassiter was with them, scowling down at them. But even through his pain filled haze, Shawn could see the concern he was trying to hide.

"Spencer, I thought I told you to let us know if you weren't feeling well."

"Carlton, do you think you could show some compassion, just once?" snapped Juliet

"It's alright, Juliet," Shawn said, trying to calm her before he turned his attention back to Lassiter, "Sorry detective, I'm just a little dizzy, I thought it would go away, I guess I was wrong."

Lassiter looked shocked that he was actually getting an apology from Shawn.

"Alright then, "Lassiter said, checking his watch and looking back towards Juliet, who was still crouched down beside Shawn, " O'Hara, why don't we finish up here and then we'll take Spencer home?"

Juliet hesitated, not wanting to leave Shawn here alone.

"I'll be alright," he said, trying to reassure her that he would be fine on his own for a few minutes.

"Are you sure Shawn, I don't mind waiting here with you."

"He'll be fine, O'Hara, " barked Lassiter, " Spencer, I trust you can manage to stay put for a while? Whatever you do, just don't throw up and contaminate my crime scene."

"Sure," replied Shawn letting the corners of his mouth turn up in a half smile, more to assure Juliet than anything.

It worked, and she rose to follow Lassiter after she gave Shawn's arm a gentle squeeze and shot him another concerned look.

"Oh and detective," Shawn said as they began to walk away, "She wasn't killed here."

Lassiter looked back at Shawn, surprise that the younger man had still managed to come up with some useful information written all over his face. Then he turned back to Juliet and the two of them devoted their full attention to the job at hand. While the two of them finished up examining the crime scene, Shawn leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying not to let the pain he was feeling show itself on his face.

When Juliet and Lassiter finally dropped him off at his father's house at the end of the day, Shawn walked straight past his father and up the stairs to his room. He didn't want Henry to worry about him any more than he already did, so he simply claimed that he was tired and planned on taking a nap. Besides that, with any luck, a nap would be all he needed to put this horrible headache behind him and then things could get back to normal, or at least whatever it was that passed for normal these days. Henry said nothing, assuming that Shawn was still upset about the argument he had had with Gus that morning. So Henry just stood and watched his son trudge up the stairs and off to bed, only noticing how exhausted and tense his son looked as he walked up the stairs.

Shawn slept through dinner and woke shortly after midnight because the pounding in his head had finally grown to such a level that even his unconscious mind could ignore it no longer. He tossed and turned in his bed, clutching at the sides of his head until he realized that until he found a way to ease the pain, he would not find sleep again.

So he reluctantly and slowly got up and made his way downstairs where he lowered himself onto his father's couch and began alternating between gently massaging his temples and rhythmically rocking back and forth in an attempt to ease the stabbing pain.

But nothing helped and the night drug on in a blur of pain. Finally, just after dawn, when complete exhaustion overtook him, Shawn managed to find a small amount of relief and partially doze off just as his father woke up and came down the stairs. The echo of each of his father's footsteps on the stairs sent new waves of pain searing through his head, and quickly broke through his light doze, bringing him back to consciousness and full awareness of the horrible, relentless pain once again. Shawn leaned over the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and lowered his head so that he could use the heels of his palms to massage his head in slow circular motions. Meanwhile his father had entered the living room and noticed Shawn sitting there in the early morning light.

"Shawn, what are you doing up so early?" asked Henry, making his way over to his son, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

"Nothing," muttered Shawn without looking up at his father. He really just wished that he could find a way to make the pain in his head go away.

"Shawn?" questioned Henry, noting the way his son was behaving, "are you ok son?"

Shawn still did not look up at his father, but mumbled into his hands as he continued to massage his aching forehead.

Henry grew more concerned now, noticing how every muscle in his son's body was tensed. Shawn hadn't stopped digging the heels of his palms into his forehead and Henry's concern turned to worry as he realized that the apparent headache that his son was experiencing might be indicating some other problem. The headache coupled with Shawn's recent head injury was definitely a cause for a hospital visit in Henry's opinion, which really wasn't how he wanted to spend a Saturday morning, but Shawn had an uncanny ability of picking the worst moments to develop problems. Kneeling down so that he could get a better look at his son, Henry gently laid a hand on Shawn's shoulder. It was tense, every muscle pulled tight, and Henry could feel the slight tremors running through his son's body.

"Shawn, can you look at me kid? How long has this been going on?"

Shawn stopped what he was doing and raised his head so that he was looking directly into Henry's concerned face. Henry could immediately see the exhaustion and pain reflected back in his son's eyes. Shawn had been decently effective at hiding his true feelings from Henry before the accident, but he had more or less lost that ability since then, so it was easy for Henry to tell exactly what he was feeling now.

"Not long, it got bad last night," Shawn said quietly in answer to Henry's question.

"Shawn, you should have told me, I think we should go get you checked out."

A new fear settled into Shawn's eyes, and his head snapped up immediately, causing him to wince as the movement sent a new flash of pain across his skull.

"Am I going to lose all of my memories again?"

Henry looked at his son, trying to hide his own fears, "No, Shawn. I'm sure you'll be fine, but we just want to make sure. Now come on kid, we can stop for breakfast on the way home."

"I think I remembered something, dad."

Henry looked at his son, surprised.

"Really, what did you remember Shawn?" he asked his son.

"It was dark, and cold, and wet."

"What was Shawn?"

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice tense.

Henry sighed. It was possible his son had actually remembered something, but it was so vague that it could mean nothing as well. Shawn was obviously in a lot of pain, and Henry wasn't entirely sure it wasn't some sort of delusion.

"Alright, we'll worry about it later kid. Right now we have to get this taken care of."

He slowly helped Shawn get to his feet, keeping both hands on his son's shoulders as the change in position caused Shawn to wince in pain and sway slightly as waves of nausea passed over him.

"Easy there kid," soothed Henry, his concern growing with each passing moment. The sooner he could get his son to the hospital better he would feel.

Shawn let out a small groan, his hands coming back up to grasp at his head, which was still pounding mercilessly and feeling more and more like it was going to explode. He took a few steps before a fresh wave of pain seared across his head and his legs gave way. Henry's firm grip was the only thing that kept him from collapsing onto the floor.

"It's ok kid," Henry soothed, "Let's just take this one step at a time."

Slowly, and supporting most of his son's weight, Henry helped Shawn out to his truck. He helped Shawn climb into the passenger seat, noting with great concern that Shawn had his eyes clenched tightly shut and had not reopened them since leaving the house. His son's face was contorted with lines of pain and exhaustion, and Henry hastily made his way around the truck to climb into the driver's seat. He fired up the engine, looking over at Shawn, who had rested his head against the window. The glass was cool, and appeared to be helping to ease his son's discomfort, at least a little anyways. But Shawn still had a hand up, shielding his eyes from the growing morning light while he attempted to massage the pain out of his head.

Henry quickly pulled out of his driveway and drove as fast as he could to the hospital, knowing that even if he was stopped, which was unlikely as most of the SBPD knew who he was, one look at Shawn would prevent any further delay from the authorities. By the time that Henry pulled up to the emergency room entrance, Shawn was more or less unresponsive, and Henry was forced to seek assistance to get his son out of the vehicle.

Once Henry had helped a small army of nurses load Shawn into a wheel chair, he followed close behind them, giving them all of the information he knew about what was wrong with his son. Which he realized, wasn't much. All Henry knew was that Shawn had seemed less himself yesterday than he already was. He had been quiet and withdrawn all day, and Henry had just assumed that he was tired. Now he realized that he should have paid more attention to his son. But he was so tired of being worried about Shawn.

They had reached the end of the hallway, and one of the nurses turned to stop Henry from following them any farther through the double swinging doors marked 'staff only'.

"You need to wait here sir," was all she said in her calm, professional voice, "Please fill out the paperwork and we'll let you know what is happening with your son as soon as we can."

With that, she turned and left Henry waiting there alone, not understanding exactly what had just happened, or what was wrong with his son this time. With a weary sigh that came up from the very depths of his soul, Henry turned and headed back toward the nurses' station to fill out the required paperwork and wait.