AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry for not getting this up sooner. I moved, graduated and had my hard drive die all within three weeks. Here's the end of this story, but I definitely have thoughts for a sequel.

OoOOoOOoO

OoOOoOOoO

OoOOoOOoO

Lassiter wasn't sure how long they had been sitting there. He was getting tired of just sitting, but he knew he couldn't move. Not with Spencer's arm as messed up as it was. He had never heard the psychic this quiet. It was almost as if Lassiter was in the truck by himself.

Every once in awhile Lassiter would ask him a question, just to make sure Spencer was still alive. He would respond with a grunt or occasionally it was a yes or no, but rarely more than two words. Lassiter knew he should wake Spencer up, the extreme cold combined with the probable concussions they both had was a lethal combination. But his brain was telling him that was too much work. His arms felt very heavy and sleep sounded like the best plan of action. Maybe it would be warm when he woke up. Lassiter felt his eyelids droop and he shook himself awake.

"Spencer, do you think we could try walking around the truck? Get our blood moving," Lassiter's teeth chattered as he shoved the hand that wasn't handcuffed to Spencer up under his armpit, trying to keep his fingers warm.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Shawn replied, his teeth clacking together as well. "Let's just think about warm places, like hugs from Gus and the beach in Mexico." His head slumped over and Lassiter felt it rest against his shoulder.

The truck hadn't moved again. It was still parked wherever Morgan Greene's killer had left it. Probably in some remote part of the California wilderness. That's where Lassiter would have parked it if he were a serial killer trying to get rid of two bodies.

He let out a sigh and leaned his head back against the side of the truck. He closed his eyes again, promising himself he wouldn't let himself fall asleep.

"I'm hungry," Spencer spoke up, his voice sounding tired. "Do you have any ding-dongs?"

"What? No, Spencer, those are disgusting," Lassiter wrinkled his nose.

"Not the kind with coconut and marshmallow around them," Shawn protested.

"Those are snowballs, which are delicious and completely different," Lassiter snapped. That seemed to end the argument and silence fell over the two men again.

"Lassie," after five minutes Shawn spoke again, his breathing not as even as Lassiter would have liked to hear. "You said delicious."

"It's a common adjective. I can say delicious if I want,"

Shawn sighed, "Gus was always the one who knew about grammar." His voice caught, "I didn't say good-bye to Gus this morning when he left for his conference. I'm a terrible friend."

"You'll get to see Guster when he gets back, now stop crying," Lassiter snapped.
Shawn gave a small hiccup as he tried to control his breathing, "Lassifrass, did you ever think you'd go out like this?"

"No," Lassiter said flatly, "I figured I would have gotten shot. There are a lot of people out there who want to shoot me."

"I figured I would have been shot too," Shawn yawned, wincing as he shifted his arm accidentally.

"You were shot," Lassiter reminded him.

Shawn heard something in Lassiter's tone that made him realize something, "Lassie, are you jealous that I got shot?"

"What? That's ridiculous, Spencer," Lassiter responded quickly. A little too quickly in Shawn's opinion.

"You are!" Shawn actually gave a small laugh.

"Spencer, I am not jealous you got shot." Lassiter snapped.

"You totally are," Shawn's voice was smug. "Let me tell you, Lassifrass, it isn't all it's cracked up to be. It hurts a lot and even though the scar is manly, people give you funny looks at the pool."

"Why would I be jealous of a stupid thing like that?" Lassiter was going to throttle Spencer if the younger man didn't shut up soon. He never got the chance to see if that would have happened, because the next sound they heard was the bolt being thrown on the door at the rear of the truck.

Both men looked toward the sound, even though it was still pitch black and they couldn't see anything.

"Zombies," Shawn whispered, trying to make himself as small as possible behind Lassiter.

Lassiter stood, knowing he wasn't going to be facing zombies, but probably was going to be facing a serial killer. He knew Spencer was in pain, but standing gave him a tiny bit of leverage. He honestly would feel a lot better about the whole thing if he had an actual weapon on him; not Spencer and the frozen vomit on the other side of the truck.

If Spencer's arm hurt him as the two men stood, he didn't let on except for a small whimper. The door slowly opened and Lassiter was blinded in the sudden brightness. Reflexively he put up a hand to shield his eyes. If Morgan Greene's killer was going to shoot them, then he had better do it now.

"We know what you did! You and your lust for brains!" Shawn yelled, blinking in the sunshine.

"Spencer, don't goad him," Lassiter hissed, still blinking against the light.

"Detective Lassiter?" Buzz McNab's confused and relieved voice met Lassiter's ears instead of a gunshot.

"McNab?" Lassiter lowered his hand. He could make out the rookie's tall figure, it was a shadow against the sunlight streaming in. From the looks of it, the sun was setting outside.

"Oh man, am I glad to see you guys," McNab came further into the truck. "The chief has been going out of her mind trying to find you and-"

"McNab," Lassiter cut him off, "Spencer needs medical attention and we need to find the psychopath who left us in here." He was supporting most of the other man's weight and he could feel him starting to go limp.

McNab rushed over and helped Lassiter half carry Shawn out of the truck. Then he got on the radio in his cruiser to call for an ambulance.

As they waited for the EMTs, Lassiter leaned against McNab's car. The rookie was supporting Spencer, to make sure the psychic didn't fall over. They'd gotten the cuffs unlocked and Lassiter was trying to rub away the mark on his wrist.

After ten minutes the ambulance arrived, Spencer let himself be poked and prodded and taken care of by the EMTs that had swarmed around him, Lassiter tried to get the one EMT, who was dabbing at the cut on his cheek and shining lights in his eyes, to leave him alone.

"Detective, we need to check for a concussion," the EMT protested.

"I have one, believe me, I've had enough to know," Lassiter snapped. "I'll be fine." He finally shoved the EMT away and then turned his attention to McNab.

"How did you find us?" Lassiter asked the rookie, who was jotting down notes for his report later.

"The chief had us all out on patrol after your car was found at the abandoned warehouse," McNab told him. "I was driving by and saw the truck, parked illegally, and then I heard you two arguing on the inside."

"We weren't arguing," Lassiter snapped, "it's just a frustrating environment in there."

"Right," McNab nodded knowingly, "you were exclaiming."

"The bastard got away didn't he?" Lassiter changed the subject.

McNab bit his lip, "there was no one here," he admitted. "If we can get a description from Shawn then we can move forward with a man hunt..." he trailed off.

"But he's avoided arrest for this long, he'll be hard to catch," Lassiter finished the unsaid portion of McNab's thoughts.

"I'll go make sure the CSI techs are being thorough," McNab muttered and headed for the truck.

Lassiter made his way over to the ambulance. The EMTs were still poking and prodding at Spencer. Why hadn't they gone to the hospital yet? The psychic was as white as the sheet covered gurney he was sitting on.

"Shouldn't you get him in for X-rays?" Lassiter snapped.

"Lassie," Shawn broke into a grin and then closed his eyes and bit back a wince. "Please be careful," he whispered as the EMTs put his arm in a temporary splint.

"We're just heading to the hospital now," the head EMT assured Lassiter, not backing down at the head detective's glare.

"No, no, we need to catch the guy!" Shawn protested, his voice stronger.

"I will catch the bastard, you are going to the hospital."

"Why aren't you going to the hospital?" Shawn frowned.

"I'm not hurt," Lassiter crossed his arms, gritting his teeth as he jostled a newly forming bruise.

"I fell on you, Lassie, and I'm not saying I'm fat, but I'm not a 10 year old girl either," Shawn was now glaring at him.

"I'll be fine once I catch this murdering scum."

"You need my help!" Shawn continued to protest, getting agitated.

"I swear I will have them inject you with enough tranquilizer to down a baby rhino if you don't stop squirming," Lassiter snapped, earning himself a concerned look from all the EMTs. He sighed, "I don't need O'Hara coming back to a dead boyfriend; one with a broken arm is bad enough."

It was a testament to how loopy Shawn was that he didn't argue more. "Just look for a guy with a red plaid shirt and blonde hair." He winced as the EMT lowered the gurney he was on. "Catch him, Lassifrass."

Once Lassiter was sure Spencer was on his way to the hospital he made his way back to McNab. The rookie was standing by his car, on the phone with someone. Probably his wife, Lassiter thought.

"McNab, you're with me," he snapped out.

McNab pulled the phone away from his ear, "Sir, the chief wants to talk with you." He offered the phone out to Lassiter.

Lassiter tried very hard to sound civil over the phone. "Yes, Chief," he tried to sound as if he hadn't been locked in a refrigerator truck for the better part of seven hours.

"Carlton," the chief's tone was soft and she was using his first name.

"Chief, I'm losing time to catch this guy," Lassiter didn't let her continue. "I've got McNab and we'll get him."

"You have no leads, a probable concussion and a psychic with a broken arm," Vick cut him off just as sharply. "At least come back to the station to work through some of the facts. We have no idea where this guy could be."

"But, chief-"

"No buts, detective, I'm not going to allow you to hurt yourself further. You're running on adrenaline and whatever you let the EMTs inject you with. Go to the hospital or come back to the station.."

There was a click on the line and Lassiter was outright scowling as he handed McNab's phone back to him.

"We're going to the station?" McNab asked softly, giving the head detective a hopeful look.

"Eventually," Lassiter snapped. "Give me the keys," he held out his hand.

"You shouldn't drive with a concussion," McNab's grasp tightened around his keys, more scared to let Lassiter drive than to stand up to him.

"Then you drive and I'll tell you where to go," Lassiter scowled at the rookie. He could feel the throbbing at the base of his skull returning. "Now where the hell if your car?" He turned to look for the rookie's cruiser and felt the world turn upside down.

OoOOoOOoOOoO

The first thing Lassiter noticed as he woke up, was that he was warm. He was warm and laying on something soft. He tried opening his eyes, which was only partially successful. He cracked them open and squinted against the harsh glare from the overhead fluorescent lights. Lassiter took a deep breath to attempt to sit up and winced as his chest protested. He closed his eyes again and just laid there, wondering where the hell he was. Wherever it was, they had a drop ceiling. That ruled out his condo, which was a possibility he'd considered. Maybe the whole refrigerator truck incident had been a dream.

He opened his eyes again and looked down at himself. There was a scratchy white blanket draped over him. He groaned when he saw the IV taped firmly into the back of his hand; the hospital. Now that he knew where he was, he became aware of the sounds around him. The ambient sound of a heart monitor filled his ears and he could hear the faint static of the PA system as it summoned doctors to various places in the hospital.

Lassiter moved his other hand to pull back his blankets. He needed to get out of this sterile hell hole as soon as possible. He paused when his hand touched something covered in crinkly plastic. He twisted his head to see what it was and frowned when he saw a package of ding-dongs.

"They were out of snowballs," Spencer's voice came from the other side of the room.

Lassiter turned his head to the side and saw the psychic, sitting in a wheelchair, his arm in a cast and sling. Lassiter couldn't help but notice the cast was orange.

"What happened?" Lassiter tried to sort it out in his head, but he couldn't remember anything after arguing with the chief on the phone.

"I think you fainted," Shawn shrugged, wincing. "They took me here and after I got out of surgery they said you'd been brought here too."

"I don't faint," Lassiter objected.

"Fine, you must have passed out in a manly fashion. In no way did your knees give way causing you to fall to the ground." Shawn clarified.

"How long have I been out," Lassiter was trying to summon the strength to get out of bed, but his entire body was refusing to even move.

"It's Sunday morning, so about thirty-six hours," Shawn told him.

Thirty-six hours? How had Lassiter been out for almost two days? He frowned, "What about the guy? Did we get him?"

Shawn let out a sigh and shook his head, "McNab said they haven't been able to get any leads on the truck, the warehouse, or the description I gave them."

"Son of a-" Lassiter groaned, letting his head drop back against the pillow. "We were so close."

Shawn nodded, "we'll get him."

Silence fell over the two of them, the steady beep of the heart monitor was the only noise in the room. Lassiter looked over to see Spencer trying to text with one hand.

"Spencer,"

Shawn looked up at him.

"You know that I hate ding-dongs, right?"

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn went back to texting. "I'm sorry I fell on you, and cried on you, and that I couldn't hold on to your tie and you ended up punching yourself in the nose because of it." He said, not looking up at the detective.

"You also almost threw up on me, and you tried use me as a human shield when you thought zombies were coming for us," Lassiter added.

"I had a concussion, remember," Shawn pointed to his head.

Before Lassiter could respond, the door opened and O'Hara came through.

"Carlton!" She was by his bedside in a flash, trying to hug him which ended up being extremely awkward considering all the tubes he was hooked up to, not to mention the hospital gown.

"O'Hara, I'm fine," he protested pushing her away.

She gave him a concerned look, "I got back as soon as I could. The chief called me," she explained. "Then you were unconscious and I was so worried."

"I'll be fine," Lassiter reiterated.

"Yeah, I mean, what's a couple of bruised ribs, a concussion and various scrapes and bruises to old Lassidoodle," Shawn reasoned. "Now, since you're both here, you need to sign my cast." He produced a handful of various colored markers. "I tried forging your well wishes, Lassie, but writing on your own cast is harder than it looks, plus I couldn't decide if you would put 'Don't be stupid, Spencer' or 'Get well soon, sorry for doubting you',"

Lassiter chewed on his lip for a moment. "I did doubt you," he admitted.

"And I was right and there was a serial killer and not the kind who doesn't like Cheerios," Shawn added.

"Right," Lassiter tried to quell the irritation that was coming back with every word Spencer spoke.

"Just promise me something, Lassie," Shawn looked up at him, his face as serious as Lassiter had ever seen him be. "Promise me we'll catch him." He unconsciously grabbed for Juliet's hand with his good one.

"I promise you that we'll catch him," Lassiter said emphatically. "Now go get me some snowballs," he grabbed the ding-dongs from his lap and chucked them at Spencer's head.

Shawn managed to avoid getting hit, but he gave a small grin. "C'mon, Jules, we'll let cranky pants Lassie sleep."

Juliet gave Carlton a relieved look. "Sleep tight, partner, I'm just glad you both are okay."

Lassiter gave a grunt of thanks and prepared himself for the onslaught of doctors that would be coming to poke and prod at him.

Juliet pushed Shawn towards the door, when they were almost through, Spencer twisted in his wheelchair to look at Lassiter.

"Lassie, we'll catch him right?"

"Didn't I promise you that I'd get you out alive?" Lassiter scowled.

Shawn nodded.

"Then we'll catch him, because I'm a man of my word."