This story already has found around SEVEN alerts. Weird, but I thought I'd post the next chapter to get people hooked, and see that they like.

Disclaimer: Well, there was a pineapple in my lunch today. Does that count?

So here it is…THIS HASN'T BEEN BETAED 'CAUSE I'M TO FRICKIN LAZY! SORRY SORRY SORRY

And I Am?

Lassiter hadn't even realized that he had drifted into a light doze on the edge of the bed until the movements and whimpering murmurs that was so totally -not- Shawn brought him suddenly back into awareness like a bucket of ice water.

He stared frozen for only a split second before bending close to speak in low, soothing tones, not quite sure on what he was doing, or if he was even doing it right.

"Easy, Spencer. It's alright now, easy…" But whatever the hell Carlton was doing, it seemed to be working. Reaching out on a limb, he slid his hand over Shawn's, which had been gripping the pale worn blanket moments ago. Curling his own rough-with-years-of-holding-a-gun fingers with Shawn's compelled the normally emotionless detective to use his other hand and tentatively brush his fingertips over mixed murky brown hair soothingly. Shawn turned his face to him at the touch, and for a split second Lassiter felt hopeful-but his face fell considerably once he realized Shawn was merely moving his head with blindness-he was still lost somewhere in a feverish dream.

Shawn was purely seeking him out on a mental level. That was it. But his pathetic whimpering and gentle whining noises ceased at that was really Lassiter's objective in the first place.

A few moments later, right after Lassiter had gained control of his senses and pulled his hands sharply (with a whiplash effect, I might add, so now they stung) into his lap, did the object of his uncertain affection wake up. Shawn, as he did in most cases, seemed to stumble into awareness-hazy and weak feeling. Of course he'd never admit that to anyone. At least he didn't think he would.

"About time you woke up, Spencer."

It took a moment for the bed-ridden man to grasp just who this stern-looking Irish was talking too. But since he was being gazed at by those piercing blue eyes, (He decided after a quick speculation he kind of liked them and thought they were pretty.) He was sure this man was talking to him.

More like speaking down, but whatever.

"…Who are you?" The older man seemed to be caught by surprise, but quickly recomposed his self with such precision a normal person might have missed. But he didn't, and he wasn't sure why he was so…in tune with little details like this, but whatever.

"My name is Carlton Lassiter." He wanted to smile at this name-it was a unique name in itself, but he was quite certain he could find some really funny and cool sounding nicknames. He made a mental note of the name and face and also about that last nickname bit.

He wanted to ask this man another question, but instead he responded with something he deemed more useful at the time.

"Oh. And I am?"

Lassiter almost toppled out of his chair for the second time that day. The first sentence Shawn had said had disconcerted him in more ways than one-part of the detective wanted desperately to let this be one of Shawn's April fool's Days, which came every other day for the psychic.

The curious, humorless gaze he was receiving from the younger told him otherwise.

Without thinking, Lassiter pushed his hand up onto his face and hid a plaintive moan. "God-dammit Spencer." He hissed instinctively.

Beside him, the curious gaze turned to more confusion, slightly worried as well. "God-dammit Spencer? Is that who I am?" He said.

"Ah, no! I mean…you're…Shawn Spencer." Lassiter hide a smile this time he didn't want on his face. Something about this 'new' Shawn Spencer unsettled the man more than being shot at.

"Oh." He said softly. The name didn't ring any bells, but apparently it was his so, oh well.

Lassiter, on the other hand…

There was one thing he could do. "I…have to go." Just turn on his heel and make a break for it-get the hell out of dodge. That was what he said he was going to do in the first place, wasn't it? Regardless of the situation.

He didn't think this could ever be a situation, though.

The New Shawn didn't respond, just stared at him tiredly with that sunken fatigued look he had ever since he'd woken up. He took a step back, readying himself to leave and trying not to stumble over the chair he jumped out of.

He was in the doorway when a small supple voice shut the door, so to speak, in his face and bolted it.

"Wait…please?" Lassiter hunched his shoulders and glanced back to the forlorn little figure in the bed, which had pushed itself up and was leaning exhaustedly toward his direction. Shawn paused, glancing down, as if hesitant to make a move, but did it anyway, he had nothing left to lose.

He stretched a bandaged hand out, in silent askance and sat there with an outstretched hand in a small muddle of emotions. Shawn sniffled slightly, and Carlton had to rein his body right then and there to yield from quickening his pace to the brunette's bedside.

He settled for a steady emotion-hiding stride he perfected from years in the academy, bullpen and interrogation. But within seconds he was back beside the younger man, and Shawn pulled his hands back slowly, as if scared and unsure.

Lassiter, who would have none of that, sent his own hand after the others', grasped it rubbed a soothing thumb over the top of Shawn's. Shawn gazed up at him with hope.

"If you don't want me too, I won't leave." The head detective promised. There was a pause, and then…Shawn leaned foreword and responded with a nuzzle into Carlton's sternum, humming contentedly into the crook of his neck, and it took a few minutes until Shawn had mentally ensnared his Carlton Lassiter's unique musky smell and image into his trap-like memory.

Carlton Lassiter was his now. Shawn liked that. Out of all the things he didn't have, his memory, his life, his anything, Lassiter was now at the top of the list. Though Shawn had a feeling he'd already had Lassiter high on his list.

OoOooOoOoo

The hospital released Shawn without much hindering, they did, after all, need the beds and Shawn had woken up and was recovering nicely. He was scheduled to come back, for the doctors hinted he needed to go someplace familiar anyway, like Home; Lassiter taking further custody for the boy after discovering Henry was somewhere upstate for a fishing season. That's right, Henry had offered to take him, and he was now glad now he hadn't gone, because it was his job to bring the boy home, and that meant at the present time Carlton's apartment.

Shawn wasn't given a wheelchair, but limped nonetheless and was the object of Lassiter's recent upheaval of protectiveness, the feelings were coming in surges more and more often and this worried the detective. They loaded into his car with out problem, Shawn hissing at his lower injuries at times.

There was a stuffy pause in the car after they had pulled out onto the open road, to which the radio could have filled such silence but Lassiter couldn't be bothered to turn on, and Shawn couldn't remember what music he liked. He couldn't really remember anything, so he wasn't too worried about something as trivial as music right now. Maybe later.

"You want a smoothie?"

"…do I like those?" Shawn questioned gently as he gazed out the window at the passing objects.

He heard his man intake a sharp breath, as if in pain, but Lassiter continued after a short pause. "Yeah Shawn, you do."

Shawn turned to the man who had been the first thing he set eyes on since this whole scary ordeal. Right now, he felt this man was the only thing he could tie too, and Shawn was willing to listen to this man without hesitation and trust him with his life. Maybe he had done this before, because it wasn't hard to do right now, despite recent events.

"'Kay then, yes please." Was a gentle reply from the passenger seat.

Now, though, Lassiter couldn't find out why Shawn had put him on that list, he really couldn't find out anything. Shawn was missing.

'God-dammit, Spencer.' Lassiter thought angrily.

-TBC-

So, Shawn loses his…I don't what you want to call it, mental health maybe? Whatever-I just want to warn people of the upcoming 'Shawn state' he's kinda a child again, innocent and unsure. And if his previous train of thought wasn't so jumbled up already, now there's adding this to the mix. Shawn's point of view won't always be clear until he picks up on the names 'Lassie' and 'Carly.' Until then (which shouldn't be to long, my loves) it may be hard to tell when he's thinking unless I come right out and say 'Shawn was thinking to himself.'

Despite all the alerts, no one reviewed 'cept for a handful peoples…pretty please, could someone review? Thankies for reading regardless if you do!