Only the Curious Have Something to Find
Chapter 18
Note: Hey y'all, I'm back! And covered in mosquito bites, woo! And HOLY CRAP! Over 200 reviews?! Oh my God, I adore you guys. I really do. I'll have to give you all something extra special soon!
But, first, I'd like to say something. I received a troubling review on the past chapter that made me realize I may be insulting a group of people I consider myself a part of. The review basically said I was insulting all who believe in God by making them look psychotic. That was not my intention at all. I myself have been raised in a religious family, going to church every Sunday and going to catholic schools all my life. I'm not a bible-beater or an extremist who pushes religion down other's throats, we all have our own beliefs and we need to respect that. But to say I was intentionally badmouthing all those who believe in God is downright false. I'm not trying to make Clarence look psychotic for believing in God, I'm trying to make him look psychotic because he is psychotic. Not because he's religious, but because he's bent the line between extreme and acceptable. Now I'm not saying there aren't extremists out there like Clarence, obviously I'm acknowledging that by having him as a character.
The bottom line is: I'm not saying all, religious or not, who believe in God are psychotic or extreme, so please don't think I am, all right? That's just stupid.
And also, thank you so very much to some of my reviewers who stuck up for me - Squeedle, A maze thing, and Flatliner345. This chapter is dedicated to you guys!
Anyway, super long speech over! Enjoy!! (PS: Lots of swearing this chapter, look out!)
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There was so much emotion put into the one word. Dad. So much fear, so much relief, so much pain. Dad. His voice was raw, whether from misuse, screaming, sobbing or all of the above, all sitting frozen in that living room were unsure. Dad. As the word was uttered they could all hear a hitch in his breathing over the phone, like he'd long since been crying and couldn't stop – or was it he just plain couldn't breathe?
"Shawn?" Henry whispered it out like it would be the last word he ever uttered, even if that were the case the father felt it fitting his last breath should be his son's name. His son that he wanted back so badly his heart physically ached.
"Dad." It was breathed out this time, a confirmation rather than a question. "Daddy." It was a plea, a sob, a desperate cry for hope, all packed in a tiny, two-syllable word.
"Oh, Shawn. Oh, God, Shawn. My boy, my baby boy…" Henry actually sobbed out, not caring as the others looked at him in shock. No one had ever seen Henry Spencer cry, let alone sob. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"Dad…I—I'm not ok, let's put it that way." Shawn hiccuped, sniffled, cleared his throat. Even Henry could tell by those few words that his little boy was trying to be strong. Images of a four-year-old Shawn with a heavily bleeding leg filled his mind. I'm ok, Daddy, he had said through his tears as Henry all but passed out from panic. I'm ok, Daddy. Don't be scared.
"Oh, Shawnie…" Henry himself cleared his throat. He needed to be strong for Shawn. His poor boy couldn't do this, not on his own. He shouldn't have to do it at all, Henry thought bitterly. "Are you bleeding?" He didn't get a response. "Shawn?"
There was a sigh, "Yea."
"A lot?"
"Define 'a lot'."
"Shawn." Henry said warningly, quickly recoiling, shocked by how easily the two could slip into their normal banter despite the situation. "Where are you bleeding?"
"Chest, leg…head, maybe. It hurts, that's for sure." Shawn said reluctantly after a moment. You are not doing this alone, boy. "Dad…dad I'm sorry. I should have known that he was lying. I mean, I could feel it but I didn't even notice it." Henry didn't care one bit that everyone around, excluding the kids and Lawrence, didn't understand that statement, especially after the next whispered sentence, "It's all my fault. Maybe he's right."
"No! God damnit, no Shawn!" Henry cried, slamming his hand so hard down on the table holding all the computers that their screens fizzed for a moment as everyone in the room jumped in surprise. "It is not your fault. It wasn't your fault when he lied to you, and it won't be your fault when he's put away to rot in a cell for the rest of his decrepit life! You got that? And don't you dare believe any of that bullshit. He's the farthest thing from right! I mean, brining God into the picture, he made you. He made you the way you are. You were born this way. There's nothing wrong with you." They both knew he wasn't just talking about the homosexuality. "Do you understand?" He asked quietly, his voice cracking with emotion.
There was a sniffle. "Yea…yea, daddy." Another choked sob escaped across the receiver. "Dad, tell—tell Gus, Lassie and Jules that I…that I love them. And know that…that I love you. So much. I'm sorry for all that I've done or said. But I love you dad, so much."
Henry glanced over at the kids to see all three had tears freely flowing down their cheeks, Juliet's hand was plastered over her mouth as he body jerked with silent sobs. Lassiter and Gus stood on either side of her, each leaning on the other for support in all senses.
"Oh, oh, Shawnie. I…I love you so much. I love you so so much." Henry choked out, swallowing a sob. "And I'm gonna get you out of there, ok? We're gonna be out back grilling our latest catches before you know it, ok?"
"Ok, dad." He closed his eyes and could just see his son's smile in his mind.
"You'll be ok, son. Don't be scared."
I'm ok, Daddy. Don't be scared.
Suddenly there was a scuffling sound and a gasp of pain. A muffled 'That's enough now, demon. That wasn't for you.' Then, "Satisfied, Henry?"
"Yea, but I'd be even more so if you'd give me my damn son back." He growled.
"You mean damned son." Henry opened his mouth to holler something obscene into the phone just as Hastings hit him in the shoulder and Clarence said, "Well, I've paid my dues to a father. Now, I must return to my duties for the Lord."
"Clarence don't you dare-!!"
The line went dead.
"God fucking DAMNIT!" Henry screamed at the top of his lungs as he slammed the phone down. It felt as if the whole house shook. "Damnit!" He cried again as he spun around and kicked the coffee table. "Fuck! Tell me you fucking got something?!" Henry snarled at the technicians, making them frantically type on their computers.
"We—we uh, we tracked the call. But it was made on a cell phone, so it uh—" The tech stumbled over his words in a panic.
"It should give us a somewhat good idea of where the call might have called from," Another older tech continued, "But…but somehow he re-routed it and the computers say the call came from this house."
Henry stared at the tech for a long moment, breathing heavily through his flaring nostrils. Hastings took a step forward unconsciously, afraid his partner might attack the tech. Henry started off quiet, his tone getting louder with every word. "How the fuck did he RE- ROUTE THE CALL?! He barely knows how to work a fucking LANDLINE!"
"I—I don't know sir." The older one said quickly, trying to hold his ground.
Henry took a threatening step forward but suddenly stopped, before spinning around and viciously grabbing his car keys off the table and storming towards the door.
"Henry, Henry! Where are you going??" Hastings called, going to follow but stopping dead as the father spun around, a murderous look in his eye.
"I'm going to talk to Elyse."
And the door slammed.
--
Shawn blinked up at the bare bulb hanging above him. He bit his lip, closing his eyes again. He tugged on his tied up hands but stopped as he tugged on his new wound, a deep slice on the back of his right shoulder where Clarence had drained some of his blood into a bowl for the rest of this psychotic, seemingly-never-ending ritual.
His grandfather stood at the table a few feet from Shawn. "Gra-" Shawn stopped, remembering the enraged punch he received last time he called Clarence 'grandpa'. At the thought Shawn licked absentmindedly at the blood still slightly trickling from his probably broken nose. "S-sir." He said, quietly, but he knew Clarence heard him.
"What is it, deviant?" The older man asked without turning around from his mixture, that the weak teen was sure contained a good deal of his blood and skin.
"I—I need to use the restroom."
Clarence's movements stopped. "Excuse me?"
"I—I need to pee. Please."
"You'll just have to hold it." He could just see the roll of the older man's eyes.
"No, please, I—I know I can't. I never could. If you don't let me go it'll get really messy, and you'll never be able to get it out of wood or this nice rug once it soaks in. Believe me, I-I know. I had a problem when I was a kid. R-remember?"
There was a long pause as Clarence stood frozen, back still to Shawn. "Yes. I do." It was whispered, "Back when you were just a boy." Shawn's heart froze, and for a fleeting moment he thought maybe he'd gotten through to his grandfather. "Before you were tainted." The older man spun around and Shawn's hopes were crushed. He would never get through to him.
Which was why he had to do this.
His grandfather walked to him and roughly untied his grandson's bloody wrists, pulling Shawn up harshly. As he stood shakily his grandfather gripped his arm tightly, painfully.
Now or never.
Shawn swung his arm quickly, slamming his elbow into his grandfather's face as hard as he could. There was a loud, sickening crunch as Clarence crashed to the ground. Shawn bolted, running for the door. He made it to the hallway, he could see the main room where the door to freedom was. I'm so close! He screamed in his head. It's right there!
But as he hit the end of the hallway he felt something hard strike his back and he went crashing forward. As he torn chest slammed down into the hard wooden floor Shawn could see stars, the agony was worse than when the skin was actually removed. He could hear Clarence behind him and knew he had to move, but suddenly his legs didn't work. He tried to drag himself forward but the feeling of his wounds scraping against the old wood was worse than falling on it and he found himself vomiting what little he had in him.
In between gagging and choking, Shawn sobbed. He could see the door. He could see his freedom. It was ten feet away, it was so fucking close. But it was out of reach. He couldn't have it.
He felt Clarence's big hands clasp onto his feet and he knew what was coming. "Oh, God, please!" He screamed, unable to stop himself. "Help me!"
"The Lord doesn't even look at your kind, beast! I am helping you!"
"Please, please, Grandpa…" Shawn sobbed. All he got in response was a rough pull at his feet and he was dragged across the floor.
Shawn screamed out in pure agony.
--
"Spencer!"
"Henry, stop!"
"Man, stop it, you shouldn't-!"
Henry pushed past all the officers who'd been obviously warned of his arrival. As they tried to convince him not to go to the elderly woman in interrogation room three Henry paid them no mind. He stomped up to the room and threw the door open with such force the other's feared he mind shatter the unbreakable window.
The elderly woman sitting at the table jumped almost a foot off her chair at the entrance. "Henry?" She gawked.
"No, it's fucking Santa Clause." He snarled, stomping up to the table, leaning down hard on it and getting in the woman's face. "Where the fuck is my son, Elyse?"
"I told everyone, I don't know!" She cried, holding her ground. "I don't know why or where Clarence would take him! I swear!"
Henry held his position, just glaring so hard at her that the cops standing panickedly at the door feared she might have a heart attack right there from that stare. Then he let out a deep breath he'd been holding and quietly growled out, "All right. You don't know." The woman breathed a sigh of relief, still holding his gaze. "How did Clarence suddenly get technically savvy?"
She stared, confused. "What?"
"He somehow diverted the call so when we tried to trace it it came back as my number. How did he do it?!" He didn't care if Elyse held no blame in this case, she still denied his son the love he deserved over all these years. She didn't even deserve any mercy.
"I—I don't know. Clarence is worse than I am with computers. I-I don't-"
"Think!" Henry screamed, slamming his hands down on the table, causing her to jump once more.
"I-I don't know!" A pause, then, "…may-maybe the girl next door…"
"What??" Henry snarled, all but shaking the woman.
"There's a girl! A girl, she lives next door to us! She's a college student, she's going into Computer Sciences or something like-"
"What's her name?!"
"Ah—I—I don't-Gomez, maybe? Penny...or—or wait, Garcia! Her name is Penelope Garcia!" Elyse cried.
Henry threw himself back from the table and ran for the door as Elyse crumpled into sobs behind him, totally ignored. Pointing at a random cop he screamed "Call Hastings! Tell him to get all his officers over to 1967 Elmwood! We have a lead!"
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A little short, but I wanted to leave the next scene for the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed! And woo, a day early too! –hands out champagne glasses filled with pineapple juice – To 200 reviews!
Thank you for reading!!
-claire
PS: Anyone recognize Garcia? :D