I'LL BE RIGHT HERE
Chapter Forty Eight
"Well, goddamn it, Indy. Where doesn't it hurt?"
(From: 'Raiders of the Lost Ark'.)
-x0x-
Now…
The voyage home was something that Shawn really wished he could erase from his unforgiving memory. Maybe he should have hitched a super-fast ride in the medevac chopper. Sure, he wanted to stay with Jules – the scene had been so perfect in his head, worthy of Indiana Jones or Han and Leia – but Harrison Ford never threw up all over the Millennium Falcon. Scowling, Shawn wondered why his father hadn't taught him that snoozing on the deck of a speeding coastguard boat was a sure-fire way to turn his stomach upside down. "The ocean hates me," he complained.
"That figures. It spat you back out, after all."
Gus was looking far too cheerful. It was so unfair. "Got any more of those patches?" Shawn ventured. "Or, you know, I could take yours. Best friends always share, right?"
"I'm sorry for you, Shawn… but not that sorry. I take these off and you know what'll happen. Besides, it was Tally who gave them to me."
"How sweet. Help me up, then, buddy. Time for some Pacific payback. A little give and take…" When Gus wrinkled his brow in confusion, Shawn elaborated. "I'm going to up-chuck, okay? Hot chocolate and fluffy marsh… ugh… in reverse. Get the picture?"
"Vividly. Thank you."
The next hour was a blur of misery and nausea, interspersed with flashes of sympathy from Jules, who came to rub his back whenever Lassie wasn't watching. Gus stayed for all of three seconds, unable to cope with the sight of Shawn retching his guts out. Henry, on the other hand, was a silent, stoical figure by his side. No one spoke. There was nothing to say. Finally, when the worst was over, Shawn dropped down to the deck again, feeling (and probably looking) like wet toilet paper.
"Think I'll complain… to the cruise director," he mumbled sheepishly. "Want my money back…"
"Good luck with that," said his father drily.
-x0x-
When he finally reached the emergency room, Shawn did his utmost to charm the doctors and nurses into letting him go as soon as possible. If his comfort zone was a cliff top, then hospitals were teetering on the brink. They were noisy, and filled with sick people who were often sad. (Shawn found it hard to cope with sadness.) There was poking and prodding, and everything smelled far too clean. On the bright side, of course, there was also hospital food, which some people hated but Shawn rather liked. With his best friend currently out of action, Gus co-opted Dennis as a fellow adventurer and headed off on a major snack raid for everyone while a chatty young resident strapped up Shawn's finger with far more skill (but far less compassion) than Captain Yoly.
"How did it happen?" she asked, taking in his pale, dishevelled state and the subtle jigging of his leg as he sat on the edge of the gurney.
"I was careless," he replied, with unusual brevity. He squinted at her name tag. "Anita."
"Mm. We get that a lot." Anita's dark eyes narrowed. "Any other 'accidental' injuries?"
"Nope." He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile as she finished her work and surveyed the effect. "I'm good."
"Aside from your stomach," his father put in, scratching at the ill-fitting coastguard jacket that he wore.
"Traitor," Shawn grumbled.
"And the bump on your head," said Juliet.
He turned and looked at her bleakly. "I was hoping you'd all forgotten." The fear of being fed into a scary, narrow tube so they could take disturbing pictures of his insides made him feel quite claustrophobic. Besides, 'not knowing the worst' was a far more acceptable state in Shawn's opinion.
More poking and prodding ensued. Anita fetched another doctor and they held a muffled consultation at the end of the bed. Shawn tried to read their lips but medical jargon had always been a foreign language to him, like Japanese or Irelish, and everything he thought they said made no sense of any kind. What was a lobe, exactly? And 'diancephalon' sounded more like a glittery pop diva from the '70s…
"It's just a mild concussion, right?" he interrupted, reclaiming their attention. "And some pretty spectacular bruises?" He reached out and gripped Juliet's hand, far more tightly than he had intended, as he realised when she winced (but did not pull away). "I can go home now – that's what you're saying."
The senior doctor pulled a face. "I'd prefer to keep you in overnight for observation…"
Shawn shook his head vehemently. "Juliet has eyes." Unable to help himself, he turned and gazed at them, distracted for a moment. Then he remembered the point he was trying to make. "She can watch me all night long."
"Don't flatter yourself," smirked his girlfriend.
He clutched at his heart. "Ouch. Now that hurt. Don't tell me you're going to abandon me here… Poppa. You'll take me home, won't you?"
"Only if they give you the all-clear, Shawn," his father told him sternly. "You've been through quite an ordeal in the last twenty four hours."
Shawn raised his bandaged hand to his head, hiding the discomfort with a supreme effort. "I'm sensing they will," he said, flashing his most adorable grin (as rated by Jules) at Anita and her colleague. "Pleeease…?"
-x0x-
In spite of Shawn's exhausting charm offensive, it took five more hours and innumerable boring and painful tests before he was finally released from the emergency room, with strict instructions to come back if things took a turn for the worse – in Henry or Juliet's opinion, not his own.
"It's like they don't trust me to know what's best for my body," he complained, as he eased himself into the passenger seat of his father's truck. Juliet squeezed in beside him. She was looking weary and he studied her with some concern. "Speaking of knowing what's best – sweetheart, you look terrible."
Juliet gave a short laugh. "Thank you, Shawn."
"I mean it in the nicest way," Shawn protested quickly. "Beautiful – but terrible. You need to get some rest."
"I'd say we all do." Henry started up the engine. "Me, I could sleep for a week."
"But father, you're my nurse." Shawn made his voice sound extra pathetic. "Who's going to bring me snacks, or change the channel, or help me to the...?"
"Not a chance," Henry growled. "Your legs aren't broken."
"No – just my finger," Shawn sighed wistfully. "Ah… ah… ah-CHOO!" And he clutched his battered stomach muscles as the sneeze shook his whole body violently. "Jules. Can I come home with you, then?"
Henry and Juliet traded wary glances.
"Rock, paper, scissors?" his father suggested.
-x0x-
Scissors cut paper, which meant that Shawn spent the night in his childhood bedroom after all, with Juliet sleeping on the couch downstairs by way of a compromise. He wished they could have snuggled, half-moon style, but Henry was adamant. "My house, my rules," the old codger insisted. Juliet's reasoning was far more sympathetic.
"You're sore," she explained. "I might hurt you."
"Jules," he murmured. "Never."
In the morning, she actually brought him breakfast in bed, which was completely unheard of in the Spencer household. Settling down on the duvet in front of him, with her legs crossed, a bagel in one hand, and a bright smile on her face, she proceeded to fill him in on all the latest gossip. Molly had given Dennis a very enthusiastic welcome home, and bore Shawn no ill will for leading the wolf (or rather, the evil chipmunk) to their door in the first place. Yoly had come through a lengthy operation with characteristic fortitude and the odds of her recovery were good. Maya was actually staying with Chief Vick, of all people, so that she could visit her mother daily. Cal had set one foot on the coastguard boat before fleeing back up the gangway to the Copernicus, electing to stay where he was most at home, now that Meek and his buddies were enjoying a very different kind of hospitality. Shawn felt a pang of regret that he wouldn't be seeing the 'alien' again – but hell would have to freeze over, thaw and then freeze twice as hard before he'd even think about returning to that ship.
Yoly, on the other hand, he planned to see as soon as possible. He had a lot to thank her for.
Meanwhile, Juliet had even more news, and couldn't wait long enough for him to process anything else before she broke it to him eagerly.
"Commander Dunlap finally asked Carlton out on a proper date."
"Figures," he chuckled. "I saw that one coming."
"Oh, that's not the best of it." Juliet's eyes were shining with mischief. "Carlton turned her down. I think he's been waiting to do that for two years. I've never seen him happier."
"The man's a regular mascot."
That made her frown for a moment or two. "Ah!" she said at last. "I think you mean a masochist."
"Do I?" Shawn looked puzzled. "Hard to tell. My head's still a bit fuzzy. These pancakes are helping, though. Hospitals are missing a trick. Breakfast is magical. Genuine healing properties. They should look into that. It'd do wonders for morale – not to mention saving people a fortune in medical bills. Syrup's cheaper than morphine. And a good sugar rush is unbeatable - just ask Gus."
"Shawn Spencer, psychic doctor," Jules suggested, raising one eyebrow.
He smiled at the thought. She was humouring him, of course, but he didn't care in the slightest. "You know that's right. So, what else? I feel like I slept for days. Has the whole world changed around me? Is Gus an old man now?"
"I wouldn't know," she answered slyly. "I haven't seen him since his date with Ensign Manners…"
"What? When?"
"Last night. I believe they went to the movies."
"Without me." Shawn's tone was dejected.
"Well, of course. I mean, Gus doesn't tag along on our dates, does he?" She paused and looked thoughtful. "Not all of them, anyway…"
"I just… I'm feeling a bit lost," he finally admitted.
Juliet set down her bagel and took the plate of half-eaten pancakes from his lap. "Hey!" he protested.
She set her finger against his lips. "You're not lost," she murmured softly. "You were, for a while. But then we found you."
How to explain? "You were…" Shawn paused, and searched for the words. "You were always with me." He lifted a finger to his temple again. "Right here," he whispered.
Juliet swallowed. She leaned in – and Shawn gave a squeak.
"Oh! I'm sorry," she gasped, pulling back.
"It's okay. Just my stomach. The bruises, you know…"
Shifting slightly, she lay by his side instead, but poor Shawn couldn't help protesting when she brushed against his bandaged finger.
"Shawn." She sat up reluctantly. "This isn't working."
"No," he begged. "Don't go."
"Is there any part of you that doesn't hurt?" asked Juliet, disheartened.
Shawn gave a tiny smile. He pointed to his elbow.
Juliet eyes widened. Then she bent forwards and kissed it.
You always understand, he thought. Just one of the many reasons why I… Biting his lip, and feeling quite serious all of a sudden, he pointed to his forehead.
Once again, she kissed it. The gentle touch was heavenly and the scent of peaches overwhelmed him as her long hair tickled his face.
Whoever said you couldn't learn anything from the movies?
Thank you, Doctor Jones, Shawn offered up to the absent hero, as he placed a finger on his mouth and waited…
THE END
-x0x-
A/N: This story has been an absolute joy to write! I love these characters so much. Thank you to everyone who has been following along, and especially to those who favourited, followed or left comments. I do have an idea for another adventure, so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested…
Two quick notes about this chapter. The final scene ties in with the opening quote, if you haven't seen 'Raiders'. Also, Shawn's sea-sickness is a sympathetic nod to poor James Roday Rodriguez, who went for an ill-advised nap on the boat while filming 'The Head, the Tail, the Whole Damn Episode' and ended up being horribly seasick for the rest of the shoot that day. I can't watch that episode without feeling sorry for him – or admiring the way he still managed to get through the scenes!