A/N Thank you to everyone who let me know they were still on board with this. There were a few who were not happy with what I - I mean Mallow - did to Shawn. There are 10 chapters total. I hope you all like how it ends.

Previously…

Henry knew there was a chance his son wouldn't make it as far as the hospital and if these were Shawn's last moments then there was no way his son would spend them alone.

He soon realized that he would not be able to stay with his son. But he also understood that Shawn would not be alone because Juliet was already inside the ambulance, her own wounds being treated.

He turned the other way and spotted Gus standing off to the side, looking lost. He walked over, but paused a few feet away as Gus physically recoiled when he saw Shawn's blood all over Henry's hands and knees. "Gus!" he raised his voice just a bit as a distraction. "Let's catch a ride with McNab before he leaves – whaddaya say?"

oO0Oo

Buzz McNab pulled up to the doors of the emergency room and watched two men leave his car. The elder moved slowly as if the act physically pained him. The younger leapt from the car but then stopped, frozen in fear.

Buzz pursed his lips in concern, wishing there was something he could say, something he could do to alleviate some of their distress. He knew they were both desperately worried (he was too) one just hid it better than the other. He watched as Henry placed a hand roughly on Gus's shoulder, forcing him into motion. Buzz sighed through his own concern and drove off as they entered the building.

He found a parking place and made his way into the hospital. Finally, the only thing he could do was assist Detective Lassiter in processing their latest arrest. Griffin's gunshot wound and other minor injuries would have to be treated at the hospital before he could be locked up. Permanently.

oO0Oo

On the hurried ride to the hospital, Juliet had been nearly oblivious to the treatment she'd received. She was focussed entirely on Shawn.

In her defense, the EMTs had spared her very little effort as her wounds were hardly life threatening. Shawn's on the other hand…

They had removed the smaller knife from his thigh and bandaged it. The larger weapon, though, was left in place and Juliet couldn't seem to take her eyes off of it. Removing it at this point would only cause more blood loss, and Shawn had already lost more than he could spare. All they could do, until they had him in surgery, was push blood and other life saving fluids into his battered body, and keep him as still as possible so the knife would do no further damage.

Seated to his side as she was, his left hand was visible where it lay limp on the cot beside him. His wrist was bandaged, spots of red seeping through, but she reached forward and grasped his fingers. They were cool to the touch which was unsettling, but the contact helped to ground her and to remind her that this battle was not yet lost.

And then his fingers were pulled from her grasp as they arrived at the hospital and Shawn was quickly wheeled inside.

A new nurse arrived to help her down and lead her into an exam room where her own wounds could be treated. She followed numbly, still staring at the doors where Shawn had disappeared. She comforted herself with the thought that all she would need was a few (more like twenty or thirty) stitches and then she would be back at his side.

Seated with her arm lying on a sterile treatment table, it hit Juliet rather suddenly that she was coming to understand her boyfriend quite a bit better through this whole ordeal. Not only had she learned of his incredible memory and seen it in action, but she was also coming to understand what it was like to not be able to sit still.

Anxiety was rapidly chasing away her numbness. Rarely had she felt so impatient. Patience was one of her gifts. Her training officer back in Miami had encouraged her - 'Patience is rare in policefolk' he had told her, 'it will serve you well.' But now she found her knee bobbing up and down just like Shawn's so often did. At least it was distracting her from her own aches and pains.

The young man stitching up her arm tried to hide his own impatience. "If you hold still this will go much faster."

"Can anyone give me any information on Shawn Spencer? We arrived in the same ambulance."

He glanced sympathetically at her, "If you sit still, I'll have you out of here in ten minutes, tops, and you can go find out."

Just then there was a flurry of activity in the hallway outside, and an announcement over the PA system. It made no sense to Juliet, but her nurse grimaced "Multiple car pile up on the expressway is going to keep us busy for a bit. It's a good thing you and I are almost finished, otherwise you'd be waiting for a while. We'll be done in a minute."

"Will this affect Shawn?"

"I suspect he's already in surgery so, no, it won't. Don't worry."

So she did what she'd seen Shawn do (with varying degrees of success) so many times. She grit her teeth, grabbed on to the edge of the chair with her good hand and sat.

oO0Oo

While Juliet's injuries were being cared for, her partner was making sure their prisoner didn't escape while being treated for his own injuries.

Before Lassiter could get him cuffed securely to the treatment table, Griffin decided to make a break for it. Under the Head Detective's watchful eye, he didn't get far, but he managed to shove an orderly to the ground and spill several trays of medical instruments.

"You are only making things worse for yourself, Griffin. There are a lot of people, myself included, who wouldn't mind a bit if you didn't live to see trial." Lassiter barked at him. He held the psycho at gunpoint as the medical staff got out the restraints and secured him hand and foot to the bed.

Turning to the Doctor, Lassiter asked, "Is there some way you can drug him as well? For your own safety?"

The Doctor nodded, slightly nervous, and responded, "We'll need to sedate him anyway to treat the gsw, but he won't be unconscious."

Lassiter nodded in satisfaction. "We'll have a man here at all times just in case." He was torn between his responsibility to watch over his prisoner, and his desire to check on his friends.

Thankfully, Buzz showed up at that point and Lassiter called him over, instructed him to stay with Griffin. He also reassured the young officer that he would call in backup. Lassiter wanted at least two officers on him at all times.

Seeing that everything was under control for the moment, Lassiter went to check on his partner.

oO0Oo

In the ER waiting room, Henry paced. He was now wearing the scrubs some sympathetic hospital worker had placed in his hands so he could divest himself of his blood soaked clothing. He'd spent as little time in the bathroom as possible, trying desperately not to think as he washed away his son's blood. Trying in vain not to watch as the crimson stain swirled around the drain. And no one needed to know that he'd lost his lunch. That was Gus's job.

The only bright spot had been the moment that he'd tossed his ruined shirt in the trash. He couldn't prevent a small smile as he thought how thrilled Shawn would be. It was one of the shirts his son hated most.

Gus, who had gotten his regurgitation out of the way early, now sat and stared. Periodically he got up and looked down the hall, then returned, sat and stared some more. As he sat he considered: he'd been waiting at the hospital to hear of Shawn's condition before, but never had he held so little hope. He felt himself detach, and see the waiting room from a distance. Was this the day that would change the rest of his life? You hear about these things happening to other people. Everything is fine until suddenly, in a single moment, nothing will ever be 'fine' again. Was this that day? Would they lose Shawn?

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Henry greeting his ex-wife as she arrived at the hospital.

oO0Oo

Madeline Spencer had been holding her own vigil at the police station. Waiting to hear news.

As she sat and worried, she couldn't help reliving the days of Griffin's trial. Like Shawn, her eidetic memory could be a curse as well as a blessing. She certainly felt cursed at the moment as the sound of Griffin's crazed screams reverberated in her memory. His promises of torture and slow death had been directed at her and her alone. How she wished she hadn't been required to be present at his sentencing! How she had feared and hated him!

The threats that had followed had tormented her for days, and then weeks and the weeks had turned into years. Eventually she became so frightened she couldn't sleep. She wouldn't go anywhere alone. Even with friends she had ceased venturing out after dark. Soon she lost most of those friends simply through her absence. People stopped inviting her to things since she never showed. A nice man she'd been dating got fed up and broke off their relationship.

Griffin had effectively ruined her life.

Being a psychologist, she was acutely aware that her behavior was neither normal nor healthy. After a year of telling herself 'Physician, heal thyself' she finally went into therapy. Only then, when she was finally able to see things with a clearer vision did she come to understand that her current position was simply untenable.

No matter what she did, or who she implored, no one seemed able to make Griffin stop sending the threats. He was in prison. He was not allowed to send mail or access the internet. He had no contact with visitors, but somehow the threats had continued. He seemed to be all-powerful, and she, his utterly helpless victim. She hated him.

Finally she had accepted that in order to live a normal life she would have to end her current one.

And so Claire Bernson had ceased to exist. She gave up, not just her job, but her entire career. She sold her house, said goodbye to the few friends who remained, turned her back on life in Nebraska and moved to California.

She would never forgive Griffin for stealing those years of her life; for forcing her to abandon her very identity. She felt the fear and the fury from those years building within her once more. She thought of her therapy and knew that she should be fighting those feelings. She even knew how.

She didn't fight them. She welcomed them. She encouraged them. Griffin deserved them.

If he had stolen her son's life as well - she would not be held responsible for her actions.

What if Shawn was gone? That would be horrible enough. But if it was Griffin who had killed him?

She was suddenly torn from her thoughts by the sound of her ringing phone. It was Henry. With his first words, she knew things were bad. She knew better than anyone that the world could be falling apart and Henry Spencer would stay calm. If he was unable to keep his agitation from his voice, things had to be horrific. She felt a stab through her heart as she thought, 'He's going to tell me Shawn is dead.'

Thankfully he did not say the words she dreaded.

Shawn was alive. Barely. For now.

They were on the way to the hospital and could she drive his truck and meet them there?

She was already halfway to the door although she moved on unsteady legs. She thought of the parents of those two little girls. She remembered their voices wracked with grief. Griffin should have gotten the death penalty then, she thought. He certainly deserved it now.

'Yes.' She decided. 'Griffin deserves to die.'

TBC...