So sorry for the long delay in posting. I'll try and do it more regularly - I've just been swamped with work. This is a short chapter but I wanted to give you something!

Just got back from NYC today and took the kids to After Midnight. My daughter got a hug and picture with Dule Hill! Great show, great guy!

"So, you don't have any idea what it could mean?" Lassiter sat in the chair opposite him, his hands clasped together and held between his knees. He spoke gently to the still bruised and battered looking man on the couch.

"I've told you Lassie, I don't have a clue. All I know is that I figured out the date from the pictures and when I told Farris he got angry."

"But he left the clues."

"I know", Shawn practically shouted. "I know he did – but he didn't know that."

"What? You're not making sense Spencer", Lassiter snapped. Almost immediately Shawn could see a wash of guilt come over the detective's face. "I mean – uh – I'm sure you –" Lassiter sighed. "Look Shawn – if you do remember something, just tell us, okay? I understand that it's hard right now and that's – okay."

Shawn closed his eyes, tired of the fact that everyone was still walking on egg shells around him. He'd actually felt much better when Lassie had started to get mad at him. It made him feel like things were getting back to normal – but then he'd retreated to 'nice Lassie' which was really creeping him out.

"No", he answered softly. "No, it's not okay. I have to remember. I'm good at remembering." He sighed. What was the point of all of this? They expected him to pull some miracle out of his hat – right now he couldn't even count the bloody things, let alone pull something out of one. Maybe he should just tell the truth to everyone – that he wasn't psychic and they should stop waiting around for him to get a vision that would explain everything. He wondered what Lassiter would do if he opened his mouth and admitted right now that he was a cheat and liar and it was best not to trust him to figure anything out? He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired again and unable to cope. "Look", he finally spoke. "All I know is that the date is important. Didn't you find anything?"

"No. We looked through everything we could – we even had McNabb go through all the records as well – and there was nothing about that date. Since he would only have been ten at the time, it was probably something that didn't have to do with the police. For all we know it was neighbor kid who pushed him off his bike or something."

"And you think he'd go to all that work to point to the anniversary of when some kid pushed him off his bike?"

"I don't know Spencer! You tell me?"

That was more like it, thought Shawn. There was the real Lassiter. He could feel his face begin to relax – it wasn't a smile – he wasn't ready for smiles, but he felt like things were starting to move towards normal. Lassiter was grumpy.

"Okay", Shawn tried to pull himself up but didn't get very far. He wanted to scream – he could still barely move on his own.

"Here", Lassiter spoke gruffly. He got up and quickly grabbed Shawn under his arms and pulled him to a more seated position. "Is that better?"

"Yeah – thanks Lassiepants!" he replied softly. It was unfortunate – or maybe in fact it was a good thing – but he wasn't looking at the other man as he said that. He would have seen Lassiter blink rapidly, trying to hold onto his emotions from hearing that hated – and yet oh so missed – name.

"Yeah – just don't expect me to wait on you after this Spencer", he growled, dealing with his sudden emotion through his usual manner of dealing with the younger man. "I have better things to do with my time."

There it was – an actual, real, totally legitimate – if faint – Spencer smile. Lassiter had to blink again and made a show of looking for his coffee cup to hide his relief.

"Thanks Detective", Shawn said softly.

"For what?" This time Lassiter's frown was legitimate. He honestly had no idea why Spencer was thanking him.

"For being you", was all the younger man said, a faint look of the old Spencer on his face.

"Did you find out anything?" a very worried looking Juliet came up to Lassiter as soon as he reached his desk. "Has Shawn gotten any – any psychic leads about the date or about Farris?"

Lassiter sighed and sat down. "No – nothing. I don't think – I don't think we can rely on him for anything."

"Lassiter! Why won't you ever give him the benefit of the doubt?" Jules wanted to shout at him. "How many times has he helped us? You just hate the fact that he's usually right!"

Lassiter stared at her, a slight frown on his face. When she was done he shook his head. "No – that's not – I mean – I don't think he's well enough to – to get any kind of, you know, psychic reading, that's all I meant O'Hara. He's – he's still pretty sick."

She looked at her partner in confusion. He almost sounded – worried, as if he cared. When she saw that he wouldn't even look her in the eye her eyes narrowed in suspicion and guilt. "Are you planning to stop investigating then?"

His head whipped up and he scowled. "No way in hell! We're gonna find the bastard that did this and I am going to personally make sure he spends the rest of his life rotting in jail!"

A slow smile spread on her face. "You really do care Lassiter – Shawn was right."

He scowled even more and looked away. After a few seconds he turned back to her. "Don't say a word to Spencer or I'll never hear the end of it. He still irritates me", he said quickly, when she went to speak. "And I don't think he should be allowed near our cases – he's childish and immature and doesn't follow proper procedure. He's a – ridiculous man-child and a pain in the ass."

Juliet smiled. "And -?"

"But he's our pain in the ass and the person who hurt him is going to regret it for the rest of his life!"

Shawn tried to figure it out, he really did. He spent hours staring into space, sure that he'd missed something – but there was absolutely nothing that he remembered that helped. For once in his life his skills and his training deserted him. All he could remember, with startling clarity, was Bill coming at him with the cigarette and the knife and the bat and – stop it! He wanted to run away from those memories, but he couldn't. Hell, he couldn't even walk. For now he was stuck, and he was going insane.

His mother had stayed for over two weeks but finally had to leave to get back to her job. It had been nice having her around, although he had to admit – to himself only – that he was relieved that she was going. It wasn't that he didn't love her, it's just she swung back and forth from being over-protective to acting like a therapist – and he really didn't want to deal with either of those.

"I'll come back when I'm finished with my workshop", she promised, looking at him with worry in her eyes. "It'll only be a couple of weeks and by then you should be up and around a bit better. You take care of yourself Goose", she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You're going to be okay you know."

"I know Mom", he gave her a quick hug, finally able to move his arms, although his shoulder still stabbed when he moved too suddenly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She sat back and regarded him carefully. "Just don't kill your father, okay? He's only trying to help."

He agreed and gave his Mom another hug and watched as she left. He felt a touch of sadness, but knew she'd be back and he could look forward to seeing her soon.

He sighed and leaned back against the couch, enjoying the brief bit of solitude he'd been granted. His Dad was dropping his Mom at the airport and then was going out for a few hours on his boat. Henry had only agreed to go when he was sure that Gus was coming over to spend time with Shawn.

After his parents left – and boy, did that sound weird – he picked up the phone and called his friend. He needed some time alone and he didn't need a damned babysitter. As much as he appreciated how worried everyone was for him, he needed some time to think and he couldn't, not when everyone hovered over him constantly. Normally he liked being around people but now – now he needed quiet.

"Gus? Hi – yeah, I'm fine. Say – uh – you don't need to come over today – no, I'm good, really. I'm just tired and I'm gonna to take a nap and then Dad will be home to fix dinner. Look, I know you're behind on your route so why don't you finish it up. You can come over tomorrow."

That had gone easier than he'd expected so he figured Gus must be really behind – either that or he was tired of being the on-call nanny.

So – he'd gotten his wish and he was all by himself. Great – now what? He glanced around the room to see if there was anything he wanted to do – not that he could actually do very much of anything. Still, it was nice to have the option to do something other than lie there and be waited on.

He slowly sat up and placed his feet on the floor. He'd been given a walking cast for one leg – finally – and crutches. It was still hard to get around with all the other injuries, not the least of which was his shoulder and arm and other leg. It made walking twice as hard and so far he'd only taken a few steps, and always with his Dad or Gus beside him.

But now he was on his own and he was determined to walk. He slowly pushed himself up, swaying briefly, and then he hooked the crutches with one hand. "There – this can't be that hard."

But of course it was. He'd only managed to get a few feet and was sweating like he had run a marathon. He glanced back at the couch, wondering if he should simply give up and spend the afternoon watching TV. But for once that didn't sound appealing. He'd spent more hours watching TV in the last few weeks than he had in years, although his friends and family probably wouldn't believe that.

He'd definitely had enough of lying around on his ass, although right now that was just about all he could do. It was frustrating – no, it was maddening – no, it was hell. He groaned and decided to keep going, even though he didn't really have a destination in mind. Maybe he could go sit outside on the deck and at least look at the ocean. It would be different scenery than his Dad's living room at least.

Just then there was a knock on the door. His expression brightened. For all he had wanted to be alone, suddenly he realized he could use some company. If he was really lucky it would be Jules. She'd been over to see him a few times, always trying to cheer him up. So far it hadn't worked, although he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him – don't go there Shawn, he said to himself. She doesn't need someone like you.

"I'm coming", he called at the second knock. With the speed with which he could travel the person would be gone – or would start sprouting cobwebs – before he got there. "Just hold on", he yelled again. He tried to speed up but almost wiped out.

He finally made it to the door, his face practically dripping with sweat from the exertion. Still, he'd made it and he was feeling rather proud of himself. Carefully moving one of his crutches to his other arm, he reached and opened the door. "Hey – what's –"

"Hi Shawn." Bill stood outside the door, a smile on his face and a knife in one hand. "Happy to see me?"

Mwahahaha