Chapter 38

Henry glanced down at his watch for the third time in ten minutes. Gus had told him that Shawn was on his way back. He knew it wasn't easy for his son to do this. He was a little bit too much like his mother in the fact that he tended to run when things were too emotionally difficult for him, living in a constant state of appearing to be a man stuck in a child's body. But he was coming back.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

Eh, the chances were at least more than ten percent.

When it came to this sort of thing, it was really hit or miss because it all depended on Shawn's mood at the time, and Henry was just silently praying that this time it was going to be a hit, and not a miss.

Gus had shown him the text, and even though it looked like things were going in the right direction, Henry still held his breath. This was, after all, Shawn they were talking about.

His phone pinged.

He looked down and saw a text notification. Henry pressed the screen and saw it was from Shawn. On my way, pops. C u soon. Goddamn. He must really love the man, after all. He'd never known anyone able to have this kind of pull on his son.

Henry stood outside the hospital, hoping to catch him before he went in, knowing that a few things needed to be cleared up before he set foot into the building.

Correction. If he went in. Another if. He hated the word, but it was the only one that could be applied to the current situation. It was all one big if.

Just as he was thinking that his son wasn't going to show up, fully ready to walk back inside and wait with the others, Shawn breezed into the circle near the front entrance of the hospital and came right up to the curb where the ex-cop was sitting on one of the benches. The younger Spencer came to a stop and removed his helmet, looking confused.

"Dad?"

"Hey, Shawn." He stood up and approached him, shoving his hands into his pockets as he asked, "What took you so long?"

"Traffic gnomes," he snapped back with a straight face.

Henry snorted.

"Where'd you go?"

"Off the highway."

"Rico's Truckstop?"

"Of course."

"Chili-cheese fries?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause as they sized each other up, knowing that their casual banter was about to end. They were standing outside of a hospital, after all, and not for any reasons that were pleasant. Henry shifted slightly on his feet, unsure of what to do with his hands, so he resolutely shoved them into his pockets.

Shawn finally asked, "What are you doing here, dad?"

"Gus called. Said you might need an extra shove through those doors." Henry paused, and then added, "Are you?"

Shawn couldn't quite meet his eye, and the older Spencer tried to keep from rolling his eyes. Yes, of course he was going to need a shove through those doors. Heck, with the way he was acting, he might need a jaws-of-hell just to pry him from his bike. Shawn kept on glancing down at it, as if debating whether or not he should just get back on it and peel out of there as quickly as possible, and Henry knew that he had to convince him otherwise.

Letting out a sigh, he gave his son a once over and said, "It took a lot of guts coming back here. I know it couldn't have been easy for you." Shawn shrugged, but Henry knew better. "You, uh…gonna go and wait for him?"

At that, Shawn shrugged, putting his helmet on the handlebars, and his father tried not to think of how much he hated the machine that his son was sitting on. That thing was the reason why he'd ended up in the hospital the first time, and he didn't like the fact that Shawn had taken such a risk driving it while emotionally compromised.

He avoided the question and instead asked, "Does Vick need a statement from me about…you know…"

Henry didn't need him to finish the question. He knew what his son was talking about. He'd killed a man. Mind you, he'd done it in self-defense, but still. That was something that he'd hoped that Shawn would never have to deal with. Even though Spencer was upset that Shawn had never gone to the academy, he had felt a small sense of relief in believing that at least his son would never have to face that kind of decision…boy, had he been wrong.

Henry shook his head.

"No. Not yet, anyway," he amended. He paused and then repeated his question from before. "You gonna go and wait for him?"

Shawn was silent. And it wasn't comfortable in the least. He fidgeted; tapped the toe of his boot against the curb and rubbed his fingers over the leather of the seat, looking up, down, to either side, completely avoiding any sort of eye contact, and Spencer knew that his son was just trying to sort everything out in his head, but it most likely wasn't making any sense.

After a long moment, Shawn finally replied, "Yeah, I guess. I just…I don't get it, dad."

Dad. That was the third time he'd called him that in the space of two minutes.

"Don't get what?"

He let out a frustrated sigh, ran a hand through his hair and scooted further back on the edge of his bike and explained.

"I don't get…this." He made a random gesture with his hands. "How people deal with all of this emotional trail mix! I mean, is it worth all of the walnuts, peanuts, almonds, and raisins, just for a few measly pieces of chocolate?"

Henry's eyebrow lifted at the metaphor, but he understood what Shawn was trying to say. Was all of the emotional pain and frustration of not knowing, worth the small amount of happiness that he'd found with Carlton? Well, shit. He honestly didn't have an answer for that. So, he said so.

"That's not up to me, Shawn. That's up to you."

His son avoided looking him in the eye, and Spencer senior let out his own frustrated sigh and snapped, "Look, kid, it's your relationship, not mine. I don't have any say in what goes on between you two. All I know…and just you know, this is very hard for me to admit," he quickly added, "All I know is that you two…somehow…make each other better. More honest. And that's something that doesn't happen very often, in my experience. Especially considering your…circumstances. So…don't fuck it up."

At that, Shawn let out a small incredulous laugh.

"Did you just tell me to not fuck it up?"

"Yeah. I did."

Shawn shook his head and handed his dad the keys to his bike and just as he did, Henry grabbed his wrist as said, "By the way, Shawn. Never text me while you're driving that deathtrap, again. You hear me? I don't want to get another call one day saying that you busted your head on the pavement because you thought it was a good idea to multi-task while operating a motorcycle."

"I was at a stoplight, pops."

He motioned towards the hospital doors.

"I think I'll go on up. I mean, after all…apparently, he makes me better," he added, smirking, just before he turned and disappeared through the front doors. Henry stared after him, silently rolling his eyes and slightly regretting what he'd just said. His son didn't need a larger ego. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the keys, still feeling residual heat from Shawn's hands.

Henry stood there a little too long, and then thought back to their brief conversation. His son had been surprisingly…mature. And that wasn't a word that he used lightly, especially not when he was talking about Shawn. There was something different in his eyes, in the way he held himself.

Shawn wasn't slouching anymore. He wasn't walking like a cocky teenager (which just looked ridiculous on a man his age) and he wasn't acting as if the whole world revolved around him. He wasn't pulling faces, he wasn't trying to weasel out of responsibility…and he was actually trying to keep and hold onto a relationship. With Carlton Lassiter. Spencer shook his head at that last one, still not entirely sure why his son had chosen the Head Detective, of all people, to pursue a relationship with.

However, from what he understood, the feelings were most definitely mutual.

That was the other part that he couldn't entirely fathom. How the hell one of the smarter men that he knew (not the smartest, but smarter), had fallen for his idiot of a son, he did not know. It baffled him, to be quite honest about it.

Carlton Lassiter was a man who was focused on his career. Shawn was focused on anything but a career. Carlton liked to fish. Shawn hated fishing. Carlton could be cold and unfeeling, and Shawn was almost overflowing with compassion for even inanimate objects…but then again, Carlton was loyal to a fault. And so was Shawn, to almost a fault. They were both stubborn, pig-headed, hell bent on proving that they were right…and who was Henry kidding, the two of them were perfect for each other. They were both good detectives and, though he hated to admit it, they complemented each other in some odd, mystifying way.

As Henry stood next to the bike, wondering what the heck he was supposed to do with it, since he sure as hell wasn't driving the thing, he realized that he'd never talked to Carlton about how he felt towards his son. It felt as if it would be an awkward conversation.

But Henry knew that once Carlton was awake and better, he was going to have to talk to him. Great. Now there was a conversation that he was looking forward to having.

He glanced back at the doors and wondered whether or not Shawn had made it up to the waiting room, or if he was standing just outside the elevator, as indecisive as always.

Making a decision, Henry snagged the helmet off the bike, locked the ignition and steering, and stepped back through the automatic doors…and then rolled his eyes at the sight in front of him. Shawn was standing outside the elevator, frozen to the spot, his finger twitching as if he couldn't make up his mind whether to push the button. He walked forward, grabbed his son's arm, and pressed the up arrow.

"C'mon, Shawn. You can do this, kid."

"Nope. Can't."

He attempted to go boneless, causing several odd stares in their direction from the staff and a doctor or two as they walked by, but the older Spencer quickly wrapped his other arm around Shawn's shoulders and hissed out, "You go boneless on me, Shawn, so help me, I will strap you to a gurney and drag you up there anyway, so don't even try it!"

He immediately stopped squirming, steadying his legs beneath him, and Henry grinned. The elevator doors pinged open and he shoved him through.

"You. Upstairs. Now."

Just as the doors started to close, Shawn yelled back at him and gesticulated wildly, causing the kid in the wheelchair and his mother to look at him as if he were crazy.

"You! Still! Annoying!"

Henry chuckled.

Shawn would be fine.

And, quite possibly, so would Lassiter. Feeling more confident than he had before, Mr. Spencer headed for the cafeteria for some coffee. If he got there early enough, it wouldn't be as bad as it usually was, and he could always salvage it with some dried-up sugar packets and lukewarm creamer.

As soon as he'd gotten his cup of coffee, however, he looked down at it and let out a sigh. Lassiter better pull through, dammit, or all of this was for nothing. And, as much as it was still weird to him, he didn't think he could go through the pain of seeing his son suffer from a broken heart.

He better pull through.

Part 38/?