I'LL BE RIGHT HERE

Chapter Forty Five

"Look for the hero inside yourself, Crysta. Look to the good and loving heart in you and all others."
(From ' Ferngully: The Last Rainforest'.)

-x0x-

Now…

Suckered into a confession of sorts by the three people who knew him best, Bashful Shawn made a rare appearance. Attention was something he often demanded, to spur him on (and yes, because he enjoyed it), but this? This was overwhelming after his recent ordeal and he longed to curl away from it – preferably with Juliet – and close his eyes, concentrating on the comfort of her touch. Instead, he was flat on his back, ashamed and in pain, surrounded by strangers and friends… and Carlton Lassiter, which meant that cuddling with Jules would have to wait. So would the pity party he seemed to be throwing for himself inside his head. He popped a few metaphorical balloons and took down the imaginary banner. ('Congratulations, Shawn Spencer. You didn't bite the big one.')

"I mean it. I'm fine," he insisted, avoiding the gaze of the human lie detector, a.k.a. his father. "Besides, the body has a remarkable capacity to heal itself."

"That's true," his best friend admitted.

"I'll be as right as rain in no time."

Gus frowned.

"I can already feel the bones knitting together in my finger."

"Nope," said his friend decisively.

Okay, so maybe that time he had gone too far. I should learn when enough is enough, Shawn sighed. At least Juliet was still smiling at him. Gus and his father looked downright suspicious. Time for a new plan: distract and conquer. Anything to stop feeling like a victim. "That's harsh. I ain't mad at it, though. We brought down the bad guy, buddy!" He held up his fist and Gus bumped it with pride. So easy. "Can I sit up now?" Shawn continued, sounding far more pathetic than he originally intended. "There's only so much blue sky a guy can take before he really, really needs to look at something else."

"You are looking at something else." Juliet's reply was pointed and she flushed a little when his gaze intensified. He offered up a wonky grin.

"You know that's right," he muttered. I could live in those eyes and be happy.

Henry cleared his throat noisily. "Gus. Reckon there's a medic on one of those other boats?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Gus wasn't paying attention, until Henry laid a hand on his arm and glared at him in a manner that was probably intended to be conspiratorial but looked more like constipation to his highly amused offspring.

"Why don't we go and find out?"

Gus drew back and stared at him. Henry's eyes flicked to Juliet and then to his son, several times in rapid succession. His expression was the very definition of uncomfortable but he refused to back down.

"Are you feeling okay, Mr. Spencer?"

"I'm fine." Henry sighed. Shawn's lips were twitching by now. "I just… Look, can I talk to you about something? Over there?" He jerked his head fiercely.

One. Two. Three…

Realisation dawned. "Ohhh," said Gus, looking sheepish. "Of course. A medic. For Shawn. Which is clearly a two-person job; I agree."

Henry threw up his hands in relief, almost losing his blanket in the process. Shawn thanked heaven for small mercies as his father caught it just in time, tugged it around himself firmly and dragged Gus to his feet, hauling him across the deck to where Vick and the pilot were already vying for sole control of the radio, two beats away from playing 'rock, paper, scissors' with each other – or possibly arm-wrestling.

"Take your time," Shawn sang out sweetly. And thank you, Dad.

"That was mysterious," Juliet said with an innocent air. Her grip on his hand grew tighter but her gaze slid sideways. Lassie was still nearby, so their longed-for reunion would have to be discreet.

"More like alarming. I'd better be careful from now on. Who knew my father could read social cues? Like surfing the net with one of those old, home-made crystal radio kits…"

"I'm not sure that's possible, Shawn."

He shrugged. "Precisely. Please can I sit up now?" He pushed with his elbows for a minute or two, groaning faintly in a calculated bid for sympathy. Juliet's eyes widened.

"Want some help?"

"Um… yes. Yes, I do. I mean, you know I could manage, right? If I had to…"

"Of course," she dead-panned, sliding her hand beneath his back. He closed his eyes and breathed in sharply. The next thing he knew, he was upright.

"You're freakishly strong," he said, very impressed. "Now I can add whiplash to my list of injuries. Kidding!" he added hastily, when Juliet looked penitent.

"Ewan taught me some moves."

"Then I'm lucky I'm not in a chokehold." He lowered his voice. "Though I wouldn't mind being a little bit closer…"

Juliet reached for the blanket. Shawn froze. He was more aware of Carlton Lassiter now than he had ever been before. "Um, what are you…?"

"Checking for bruises. You said your gut was aching?"

"Oh." Shawn giggled. The giggle turned into a cough, then a splutter. His face turned beetroot red. "I guess I did…" He tailed off. Juliet was staring down at his stomach and her eyes were troubled. "What? What is it?"

"Shawn," she breathed. "What on earth happened to you on that ship?"

"Yes, Shawn," said an unwelcome voice nearby. "Why don't you tell her exactly what happened?"

There was mutiny in the set of Shawn's jaw as he turned and glared at Meek. "You, of all people, want me to do that?"

"We all know I'm the villain of this piece, according to you and your friends. I very much doubt your little tale of woe will offer up any surprises on that score. But you… Shawn Spencer, celebrated hero of the SBPD…"

"I wouldn't go that far," Lassiter murmured – and yet it was Edgar Meek, not Shawn, who found himself on the receiving end of the detective's implacable death glare. Lassie yanked the man to his feet as roughly as he was permitted within the bounds of common decency (or rather, the law) and began to haul him away. "Sorry, Spencer. I'll get this worm out of your sight. I know the perfect place where we can stash him for the journey home – remember, O'Hara? The lubber deck?"

Meek didn't even skip a beat. He was far too intent upon shaming his enemy. Shawn felt a rising sense of dread as every wrong move he had made on board the Copernicus flashed before his eyes. Reliving the experience in his own mind was bad enough. Were his memories now to be made sport of by the very man who had caused his pain?

"What kind of hero fails to kill the bad guy when he's standing three feet away from him with a loaded gun? I practically gave you an invitation to shoot me. I guess you don't have the stomach for real retribution. Pun intended, 'psychic'," Meek said, showing absolutely no remorse as he continued. "Those bruises of yours are a mark of your shame; a gift from me to you." He raised his eyebrows. "And you're welcome."

"Spencer. Is that true?" Lassiter demanded.

The heat of Shawn's embarrassment burned right through him, even as Juliet's trusting blue eyes held him pinned. He could lie – but she would see it in his face. He felt utterly transparent for the first time in his life. Whatever he said now was going to matter immensely. He didn't know where to turn – until he opened his mouth without thinking and the truth came out anyway, rather like Clark Kent removing his glasses for Lois. Except that Clark Kent was a hero…

"It is," Shawn said quietly. "That's how it happened."

"You had the chance to shoot him?"

"Yes, I did."

"And you chose to let him live?"

"It didn't… It didn't seem right." How on earth could he explain? "To kill him in cold blood. He knew I wouldn't do it. He was taunting me. I fired… I fired a shot over his head. Then we ran." Shawn looked down at his twisting hands. The ache in his gut was a cruel reminder, just as Meek had intended.

"Well done."

He raised his head again, still half-lost in the memory, shaky and bewildered. "Say what?"

He was expecting condemnation. Maybe sarcasm. Definitely mockery. What he had not anticipated… What he could hardly believe… was that Carlton approved of the choice he had made.

"Agreed," said his father's voice, and now Shawn knew that he was hallucinating.

"Just how hard did you hit me, back on the ship?" he demanded of Meek, who scowled. "I'm hearing voices. Must be a delayed reaction."

Henry crouched down beside him. There was a look of deep pride on his stubborn, familiar face and it made him look ten years younger. Better than Botox… "Looks like I managed to teach you something after all," he offered.

Dad. You taught me everything. Shawn didn't say it out loud, even though he almost, kind of, really meant it. Spencer men were not accustomed to sentimental greeting-card moments. Instead, he cleared his throat and adopted a solemn expression. "Actually, Dad, it's Gus you should be thanking. Like I told you before, he's very preachy. Some of it was bound to rub off on me sooner or later."

"What did I do?" said Gus, wandering back over at the mention of his name. He cocked his head. "Wait – do you hear that?"

They all looked skyward, drawn by the distant rumbling sound.

"The mother ship, coming for Cal," Shawn said wisely.

"The medevac chopper," Juliet corrected him.

"Sure," he grinned. "I knew that.

She narrowed her eyes as though she didn't quite believe him. The juddering sound of the chopper became a physical presence, distorting the world around them as the great metal beast hovered over their heads. Waves were flattened, eardrums were assaulted and even Shawn's hair was blasted into further disarray.

"They're here for the captain," Lassiter shouted, trying to make himself heard.

"And Mr. Spencer," said the chief, who popped up beside him, radio in hand.

Oh, no. No way. Shawn shook his head vehemently. He couldn't have said why he feared it so much but there was no way he wanted to be parted from Juliet and the others now that he had found them again. "I'm good. Really good. I swear. Yoly has to be the priority. They shouldn't waste time on me. They have to get her to a hospital as soon as they can."

Chief Vick looked sceptical but Henry, of all people – this new, impossible Henry - backed up his son. "Shawn's staying right here with me."

"And me," said Gus, sticking out his chest.

And me, said the look in Juliet's eyes.

Four against one – those are pretty good odds, Shawn thought, overtaken by a surge of relief when Vick shook her head, stepped away and spoke into the radio. That was one of the many reasons he loved the chief. She knew her people well enough to trust their instincts. More than that, she actually trusted him.

With a sideways grin in their direction, Lassiter finally, thankfully, dragged Meek away. No more taunts. No more hateful comments. No more chipmunk rage… Shawn gave a heartfelt sigh and then winced as his body protested.

"Jules," he said, as something new occurred to him. "You were up there, on the Copernicus, right?"

"Yes, Shawn," she answered solemnly.

"You found Captain Yoly."

"Yes, we did. And her daughter, too. And Cal."

Shawn nodded. "That's great. I mean, really great. But Jules, there's one more thing – one teeny tiny thing I have to ask…"

"Yes, Shawn?"

"Where's Dennis?"

-x0x-

A/N: Many thanks to ShawnSpenceStarr for the prompt that inspired part of this chapter.