Shawn woke to darkness.
"Evening, sleepyhead," said Henry, only to be greeted by the alarms on Shawn's heart monitor.
Henry turned up the light above his son's bed.
"Easy, hey, easy, Shawn, it's me, dad. Everything's okay. What's going on?" Henry said in a tone that lacked the confidence of an ex-cop as he placed his hands on Shawn's shoulders.
Shawn's eyes seemed to focus.
"Whoa, sorry, dad. What time is it? When I opened my eyes and it was dark … I thought my eyes…"
"No, you're okay, Shawn, your eyes are healing well, doc said so today. It was just that the lights were dimmed when you woke and you're used to better night vision." When Shawn swiped his hand over his face and took a deep breath, Henry added. "I promise, Shawn. I've never lied to you."
The nurse responded to the alarms and set about taking new vitals.
"Rough start?" she said kindly.
"'M'not used to sleeping all day," Shawn said, still slightly out of breath as she listened to his chest.
"Lungs are sounding better. Can you lean forward for me a bit?" she asked, sitting the bed up. She placed the bell of the stethoscope over different places on his back, pausing longer on others than some. She popped a thermometer in his mouth.
"Normal," she pronounced happily. Henry cleared his throat at that, grinning at his son's reaction.
So Shawn took her word for it. Normal. Was it normal not to remember having seen the doctor sometime today like his father said he did?
"The kitchen left your lunch and supper with us on the ward in the fridge, would you like me to have someone heat it and send it in?"
The word no was on the tip of Shawn's tongue, and in his stomach, which threatened to find something to toss back but failed only by sheer will.
'Uh, all this sleeping hasn't built up much of an appetite," Shawn said.
'Okay, think you can manage a protein shake?" she asked kindly. "Doc'll probably want to fire your IV back up if you don't have at least some of that." There was no hint of a threat in her voice but the fact that she was a new nurse was etched in her over-eager puppy encouragement. A smile grew on Shawn's face as he realized that he was somewhat … normal again, even though she had clearly meant his temperature. For instance, he observed that her white shoes had very little wear and tear, she still wore the silly nurse's hat proudly that wasn't strictly part of the uniform that modern nurses were required to wear, it was probably from her very recent grad photos, Shawn surmised.
"Mr. Spenser?" the nurse prompted as Shawn's still concussed mind slowly processed the first real rapid-fire observations he'd made since he'd been here.
"Oh, sorry, yes, please. I promise I'll drink a shake. Definitely don't want that thing back," Shawn said with a shiver, glimpsing Buzz's IV bag dripping slowly into the sleeping man's arm.
When the nurse left and Shawn didn't say anything, Henry's concern returned. "Shawn, what's bothering you?"
"You said the eye doctor came by today?"
"Yes," Henry said uncertainly.
"Um, I – I don't remember," Shawn whispered.
"You didn't wake up. He kept his probing as you call it, to a minimum to let you sleep. He had a peek at your eyes but didn't shine any lights. Can't say I wasn't … you know, but he assured me that you were just sleeping deeply and that was best for your concussion."
"But I don't remember," Shawn repeated. Someone touched me and I don't remember, that means that he … anyone could just…
Henry had seen many victims in this position in his long career but it hurt to see his fearless, ever defiant son as a victim.
"Yin's gone, Shawn. He's not coming back."
"Concussion protocol sucks," Shawn deflected. "No TV, no video games, can't even read." Nothing but thinking.
"I'll take the fact that you're bored as a good sign," Henry told his son. "How's Gus doing? I know today was the day he picks up his check and personal items."
"I don't know. He's seeing his folks today after picking up his last check and personal items from West Coast Pharmaceuticals. Boy are they ever going to hate me now. Probably ground him and ban us from playing together."
"You know that's right," Henry said in a perfect imitation of Gus.
Shawn's eyes were improving. He could see the bags under his father's eyes, see the toll that had been extracted. And for a moment, Shawn's thoughts turned toward his mother along with just a touch of anger. She was a trained psychiatrist for Pete's sake, and she let some psychopath have a picture of him to fixate on. Okay, maybe not her fault, she wasn't psychic, and she'd felt sorry for Yang, or whatever the woman's name really was. Oh my God, I have no idea what her real name is. I mean it can't be that easy … can it? Could the cops … my dad have found the murderous pair simply by looking up the name, Yang on a birth record or something? No, it wasn't his dad's fault either. Maybe not even Yang's or whatever her name was, maybe she was twisted by her father since birth.
Maddie had yet to visit him in hospital. Well, that wasn't entirely her fault, she had been a lecturer on a multi-country circuit studying the mental health affects of hurricane devastation on islands that had been hardest hit in the years before. She was going to cut things short and fly home … well, not home, but to … here as soon as possible. Shawn would never tell Henry that he finally understood how hard he had worked to cushion him from the fact that his mother had left not only his father but him too.
"Hey, dad? You look kinda tired. Maybe you should go get some sleep. I'm sorry I don't remember, but I guess you've been here all day." I guess you've always been here…
'You promise to drink that shake and I'll be going. Lassiter is coming by at nine."
Shawn's eyes grew wide. He didn't want to mention that Carlton had been reading to him and Buzz from a kid's book.
"Oh, and The Princess Bride is not just a children's book, Shawn, it's full of romance, swords, horses, rodents of unusual size, giants, murder, torture, more swords and more horses, all the good stuff, just like the movie. You'll love it," Henry said, donning his baseball cap and standing up with an audible popping noise from his back.
"I'll take your word for it," Shawn said. "Um, goodnight then, dad," And thanks.
Shawn pretended not to notice when Henry looked back but now that he thought of it, Henry had always looked back, at the school bus, at the skateboard ramp, at his motorcycle ... At him.
Shawn almost had to plug his nose to swallow the protein shake, but he managed to get it down where it swam around with the pancakes that were somehow still there from the morning.
Lassiter arrived; book tucked under his arm along with his coat.
"Protein shake, Spenser? You'd be better off with a streak, iron, B-12 … steak."
"This has all that, Lassieface, plus extra calcium for menop-au-my-God, this is for women!" Shawn squinted at the ingredient list on the bottle with a magnifier his dad had supplied for when he was cleared to read.
"Sounds about right," Carlton shrugged nonchalantly.
Shawn stared at the plastic bottle in his hand. The older woman on the label of the protein shake smiled up at him in a creepy, plastic sort of way. He was so ready to go home.
There wasn't much small talk. When Buzz woke for his bi-hourly probing as Shawn called it, Carlton began to read. Shawn noticed an unread newspaper in the pocket of the head detective's jacket. He tried to stay awake, but his eyes itched and hurt and holding them open brought about the headache that had threatened to return.
I am not the Dread Pirate Roberts…
XXXXXXX
Shawn woke. Carlton was gone and the pinkish sun was standing on its tiptoes to look in the window. Buzz was still asleep. In the hallway, the hustle and bustle of breakfast carts with wonky wheels brought the smells of powdered eggs and soggy toast. Shawn remembered the protein shake. Okay, congealed omelette it is, he thought, anything to get out of here sooner.
Carlton's unread newspaper sat folded on a chair opposite of him. When his breakfast tray arrived, Shawn asked a young volunteer candy striper to pass him the newspaper and she did so without hesitation, eager to be of help. Buzz missed Shawn's charm as he peeked under the round, plastic lid from which a lazy haze of steam wafted. Whatever was under there wasn't interesting enough to hold the young man's attention and he turned to Shawn.
"Not supposed to be reading as far as I've heard," Buzz said. "Concussion protocol."
"Just like a cop," Shawn said admiringly still glancing at the magnified print.
"What'd you get?" McNabb asked timidly, as if to gauge whether Shawn was still comfortable sharing a room with the person who'd tried to kill him now that there were no visitors about.
"I don't know, but I think I'm changing my name to Sam-I-am," Shawn said, wrinkling his nose at the literally green looking egg yolk while still stealing glances at the first news of the outside world he'd had in over a week.
"Good morning," greeted Gus, his arms laden with Del Taco bags. "Breakfast burritos, mild, for sensitive stomachs of course."
Gus didn't even ask as he placed the hospital breakfast trays on the windowsill where by coincidence the cresting sun suddenly clouded over to match the steamed, opaque lids concealing the soggy horrors inside.
"Oh no you won't eat them green eggs and ham," Gus said proudly in a sing-song voice, producing paper plates and cartons of milk and two items the men hadn't had in over a week. "Decaffeinated, sorry," he apologized. "Didn't want to interfere with any of your medications." He placed the two steaming mugs down in front of the men.
Buzz picked up his cup gingerly with his newly unbandaged hand and sniffed appreciatively at the surprisingly good brew. He seemed humbled by the inclusiveness.
"Vick dropped me off on her way to work," Gus explained as to how the food was still hot if he had no car. 'You look better," he added, laying out his best friend's food.
"Slept nearly twenty-four hours," Shawn said disgustedly.
"That's how you heal," Gus said, sounding too much like Henry. Spying the newspaper which crunched when Gus sat the head of the bed up, he added. "Reading with a concussion, Shawn, can set you back exponentially." He confiscated the newspaper, secretly intending to catch up on things himself once Shawn and Buzz fell asleep again or went for physiotherapy or whatever was in the plans today.
Shawn finally saw the pattern. "We have babysitters in addition to security detail now."
"Not babysitters," Gus protested. "Everyone just thought that after what you've been through, you could use some company".
Shawn knew that Gus would be there no matter what, as would Henry, Carlton on the other hand … but suddenly he was touched. After all, Buzz had been through so much. He, on the other other hand, was fine.
The burritos were bereft of any hot spices but surprisingly cheesy and flavorful. After the usual morning rounds with various doctors and the oh-so-embarrassing sponge bath, Francine came in and Shawn and Gus retreated to the atrium to feed the little sparrow. Shawn tired quickly and Gus pushed him back to his room and picked up the newspaper to read while Shawn assured him he was only resting his eyes and he could read the paper to him. Gus started off reading aloud but when Shawn's heart monitors indicated his best friend was asleep, he continued to read silently, his lips still moving nonetheless.
Shawn woke to the sound of a flushing toilet. The newspaper lay open on his bed. From the sounds of things, Gus's burrito didn't agree with him as a retching sound met his ears. Shawn picked up the newspaper to sneak a look after calling in a few words of comfort to Gus.
"Shawn! Don't!" wretch "Don't look at the…" wretch.
Now he had to look for sure. He quickly got his magnifier from his tray desk and flipped to the page Gus had been on.
He might as well have eaten those green eggs and ham. No, how can they … They can't - can they?
The headline needed no magnification. It felt as if it burned into Shawn's entire consciousness through his eyes.
"Madame Tussaud's L.A. Location Exclusive True Crimes Exhibit Hosts the Yinfamous Crimes Exhibit - Tickets on sale now for next month's opening." Shawn read aloud.
Gus stumbled from the bathroom looking as green as the eggs. "Shawn, I told you not to read that," he said sadly.
Things were made three times as bad when they looked over at Buzz. Francie had gone to see some of her co-workers upstairs to fill them in on how she and Buzz were doing and when she'd be back to work.
'But this'll glorify Yin and Yang," Buzz spat.
"Isn't there a law on the books that you can't profit from crimes?" Gus asked, one hand on his stomach and one on a paper towel on his chin.
'Only when it pertains to profiting from one's own crimes, not a third party who say, writes a book or something or …" Buzz gestured angrily toward the newspaper. "There won't even be a copywrite on … their images."
"I'm going to call Tussaud's and give them a piece of my mind," Gus said, thumbing through his cellphone.
Shawn's burrito lay half-eaten when before he'd been enthusiastically devouring it. He lay back on his pillows as Gus's angry retorts could be heard despite his best efforts to take the business into the hallway to spare Shawn and Buzz.
Hurried footsteps down the hallway came to Shawn's ears. He'd know his dad's worried stride anywhere.
"Shawn…" Henry sighed in relief as if he'd expected his son to somehow be gone. Shawn watched as his dad's eyes roved from his toes to his eyes, inspecting. "You okay?" he phished before Gus's shouting grew louder drowning out any hope Henry had that his son had been spared this horror story continuation.
"I already tried calling Tussaud's. Vick is seeking a court injunction, but she's already been told there's no legal precedent. They aren't breaking any laws. They're not obstructing justice; they're not filtering profits to … them…"
"They're catering to a bunch of sickos who don't stop to think what it's like to be…" Shawn's voice hitched in his throat. "Is it ever going to stop, dad?"
Henry paged Francine and sat down on Shawn's bed, holding his son as he sobbed for the first time in as long as he could remember. Gus came back in the room and sat quietly with his head in his hands as he and Buzz talked quietly trying not to intrude. For the first time ever, Gus felt helpless. No Thriller re-enactment or outlandish diversion could save Shawn unrelenting reality.
"They said something about higher insurance premiums and whatnot and changing demands of their tourists who have to be dragged from their mindless Kardashian-ass-watching on their couches. Said people want reality, reality and more reality. Rather watch other people's lives than live their own and maybe look up from their cellphones once in awhile. Who wants to see a bunch of cold-blooded killers? Anyone who wants to see that needs Jesus," Gus lamented. "It just happened, it's not a historical crime where there are no living victims or families left. What about that poor waitress? What about Mary? What about …" Gus looked at Buzz and then back over at Henry who was just lying a limp-as-a-ragdoll Shawn back onto his pillows before covering him up to his chin with blankets as if he could shield him from the world.
The nurse stood by and gave Henry some time before checking on her prone patient and then Buzz who sat stiffly, jaw locked in pain.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't eavesdropping, but I had to come when the monitors spiked," she said to the room at large, taking Buzz's pulse. "For my two cents, the whole thing is sick, you should start a petition. Here would be a good place to do it. We see the results and aftermath of crimes every day here." Turning to Henry she said. "I have to record what Shawn ate today; we need to watch his nutrition."
"Half a whole-wheat breakfast burrito with egg, cheese, tomatoes, spinach, and green peppers and, (he shook Shawn's milk carton) half a carton of milk. I think he might have finished it if, well you know – oh and uh, this um, protein shake for…" Henry trailed off looking at the older woman on the label of the shake bottle.
"Oh, you'll have to forgive Nancy, she's new. Nothing in there that he doesn't need anyway after all he'd been through, Calcium can't hurt." The nurse smiled apologetically.
Henry looked down at his son who right about now should be disagreeing with the nurse vehemently saying stupid things about having hot flashes and tender breasts from ingesting the shake meant for menopausal women.
Okay, I'll be back later, use the call button if you need anything, she said to Buzz and with one last sympathetic glance at Shawn, she took her leave.
Francine arrived looking paler than anyone thought possible. "You heard?"
Buzz nodded mutely.
XXXXXXXX
It was lonely watching Shawn's pain killer induced sleep, not that Gus was watching Shawn sleep, 'cause that would be creepy. So he pretended to read Lassiter's book where even the Shrieking Eels seemed tame compared to Yin and Yang and the upcoming horror show planned by Madame Tussauds. So no, Gus wasn't watching, he was observing. Shawn usually looked like a drunken toddler when he slept, even at his desk when he was supposed to be reviewing case material. Now, his features were lined in concentrated frowns and he muttered incoherently through tightly pressed lips, lost in dreams where Gus couldn't reach him.
"Hello, my name is Burton Guster, you almost killed my friend, prepare to die," Gus whispered to the ghost in the room. Sure, Yin was dead but Tussauds was about to resurrect him, elevate him to stardom the likes of which he craved in life. The hand that held the gun that shot Yin flexed convulsively. Gus bit back his guilt and then with even more quickly resolved revulsion, realized that he no longer felt the need to scream and or vomit thinking about what he'd done to Yin. He'd changed. He wasn't proud of it but the grief over Mary and all of Yin and Yang's victims weighed more heavily than the guilt for ending the psychotic killer.
Rubbing his face, Gus put the book down. He'd been putting off his usual chores. It was time to rob Peter to pay Paul to make the rent on Psych and balance the bills.
Gus pulled some financial records from his now mostly useless briefcase. It would be some time before Chief Vick could reach some sort of compensation for Psych because of red tape and Shawn would be in no fit shape to solve cases for awhile. With no income from Gus' other job as Shawn called it, they would be lucky to have an office out of a doughnut shop booth once the Psych lease was up.
And speaking of financial records … Gus clutched the banking information Pierre Despereaux had given him for the transfer from their account of an obscene amount of money into the art thieves' account. The big, red, zero account balance stood out to mock Gus. Until…
XXXXXXXXXXX
Hours later, Pierre Despereaux smiled smugly from Gus' laptop in a pre-recorded reply message. Gus pressed play and the message began.
Dear Gus and Shawn, Despereaux said as if he was a living, handwritten letter.
Gus reminds me that I owe you one, whatever owing one one means. Nevertheless, I find myself a fright bored as a gentleman of leisure. As to the problems Gus outlined in lengthy detail, I must say that I agree with your assessment of the situation and trust that what I am about to reveal will be kept confidential, not that it matters, of course, when I want something, I get it. Read carefully because this encrypted letter will self destruct in two minutes - Wait for i-i-it! Pierre's piercing blue eyes seemed to bore into Shawn and Gus separately as he ended the call by calling both their names while seemingly looking directly at each in turn before the image froze.
Shawn and Gus leaned forward, visions from all of the spy movies they'd ever watched dancing in their heads. Gus grabbed a pen and paper to write down any important information that Despereaux or whomever the charismatic man really was, was about to unleash in text.
A laugh of sudden animation on the screen startled Gus into a rather girly punch of his laptop screen aimed for Despereaux's pearly white teeth, all of which showed in his mirth.
"Shawn, Guster, how are you, lads? I knew you'd enjoy my little joke," Pierre said as he swiveled in a rich leather wing back chair which sat teasingly in view of an easel on which it was possible to view just a corner of an obviously old, cracked oil-on-canvas with what was possibly a shiny, black, ancient shoe or a rotten pear, the first more of an indication of an old masters.
Shawn was, of course, delighted by Despereaux's antics. Gus rubbed his fist and casually looked for cracks in his laptop screen. He'd never fully forgiven the man for making him miss Potter Con when he and Shawn had visited him in the U.K.
Gus squinted at the corner of the painting, leaning over as if doing so would change his perspective to see better.
"Is that a da vin-" Gus began before Pierre readjusted the easel out of view. Despereaux had the audacity to wink at him as Gus's jaw dropped.
Suddenly serious, Despereaux told Shawn and Gus that he was glad that they'd escaped from the monster they'd encountered.
"Gentleman, as I abhor violence, I am happy to inform you that I will help you pro bono on this venture to rid the world of the demonic likenesses of your nemesis," Pierre said, and he did sound happy about it.
"Pro bono? On our last case, you cost us account closure fees and income tax payments on interest fees which you also took, not to mention…" Gus stammered before realizing that he was actually getting exactly what he'd asked from the enigmatic blonde. Well, minus a meet-and-greet with Ron Weasly. But seeing Shawn light up for the first time in over a month melted away Gus' indignation.
But Shawn was even happier. In the fake psychic's mind, the monologue theme from The A-Team played, Today, still wanted by the government, Despereaux survives as a soldier of fortune/man of leisure. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find him … maybe you can hire, Despereaux.
"Now, just so you understand, I don't normally slum in wax figure art, if one can truly call a hairy candle art, I'm more a man of sculpture, marble, granite." And damned if Despereaux didn't turn the angle of his camera yet again just as Gus and Shawn noticed a white, sleek bicep peeking around a shroud of a sheet dust cover.
"Is that a Michaelang-" Gus stammered as Pierre cut in.
"Be that as it may, Wax figures are typically priced at three hundred thousand dollars, so while not as well guarded as let's say, David or Venus, we can expect some measures of protection in place." Despereaux teasingly turned the camera away from the sculpture.
"Well, as Tussade's monstrosities are made in the U.K., that's your neck of The Forbidden Forest, we figure you can just nip in and torch the suckers and be done with it," Gus said, sounding a bit like the Godfather making Despereaux an offer he couldn't refuse in order to pay back his debt to them.
"My degree in clinical psychology would beg to differ, Guster," Pierre said as Shawn sat watching the banter between the two like a racquetball match from heaven. His idol and his best friend, arguing over what was best for him, it didn't get any better than that.
"You have a degree in … then why are you an art thief? Psychologists make a fortune, besides, I heard that Yin and Yang's fiberglass bodies are already finished and the wax heads are nearly done, just waiting for paint It would be easy for a – psychologist/secret-agent-man like you to just go get rid of them," Gus insisted.
"You misunderstand why I point out my honors degree," Despereaux sighed, once again impressing Shawn with his keen mind. "You see, not only do I firmly believe that in order to heal, you, Shawn, and this McNabb fellow you told me about need closure, but the public in America where this horrendous crime took place will not gain the full impact of the utter destruction and shunning of these violent symbols if it happens a continent away. Plus if the statues are destroyed here, it's that much more likely that the artists will simply start again on replacements because there will be no outcry, no condemnation or support for the dismantling of them as I intend to incite."
"You are a genius," Gus whistled. "A thief, a con." He was going to add user, but looking at the way in which Despereaux studied Shawn as though he could see through him and with a certain concern that even Gus deemed genuine as far as he could tell with the crook, he kept quiet. If Despereaux could in fact give any of them closure, all of the misadventures with the man would have been more than worth it.
"My sources tell me that the figures will be delivered to Hollywood Tussauds a week from Tuesday. I suggest you get some rest and wait for my signal when the game's afoot."
"Sherlock!" Gus and Shawn repeated in delight.
Despereaux rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a move that looked foreign on his normally sneaky façade. He really did have a soft spot for Shawn and he had a phone call to make to one Ron Weasly -er – Rupert Grint.
"Well, until next week then, boys," Despereaux said, winking before his screen went dark before his camera touched ever so slightly both on the hidden bicep and the pear-or-shoe. In all, Shawn had said not three words to his idol. At first, when Despereaux had mentioned Shawn's need for closure, Shawn had been keen, now, he was both keen and scared. The thought of seeing Yin again … and then he realized, he'd still never actually seen Yin, he'd been blind during the attack and Yin had been wearing a mask on the night he attacked Abigail and Juliet. Did he really want to see the man who'd nearly cost him everything – even in wax?
A/N I love Despereaux and he does owe Shawn and Gus. Thanks so much for reading and for the reviews, they have made me smile. The story has one or two more chapters and I think I might write a humorous epilogue to end things off because laughter is important. Be safe everyone, and please be kind to everyone.