Only the Curious Have Something to Find

Chapter 21

Note: Woo, my story is of the legal drinking age now! :D Anyway, I start school tomorrow so everything is gonna slow down (I know, it's already bad, too…) so I wanted to give you a chapter before I have to get into gear.

Enjoy!!

--

Henry came to a horrifying realization as he and thirteen other policemen drove toward that damned cabin: I could walk in there and find my son's dead body.

"We could already be too late…" Henry found himself whispering aloud, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel, turning white.

"Henry…Henry no, you can't think that way." Hastings said beside him, making Henry suddenly remember he was in the car with him.

"Jim…" He said shaking his head, "What if my boy is already gone?" His voice cracked and he pried one of his hands from the steering wheel to scrub at his tearing eyes.

Jim placed a hand comfortingly on Henry's knee, "He will be."

Henry didn't look at his partner, but after a long pause nodded slowly and whispered, "Yea…yea. He has to be."

--

With the ambulance waiting at the edge of the woods, the half dozen cars drove cautiously on the dirt road that led through the backwoods. They made sure to be quite, trying to take their prey by surprise. Once parked a good quarter mile away they made their silent trek to the cabin, guns drawn, Henry in the lead. The father stopped dead, his heart going frozen, as it came into sight.

The cabin.

It looked like something out of a movie. Paint chipping, half of the front steps gone, curtains drawn in most windows, while the rest were boarded up. The roof looked like it could fall in at any second. There was a lone truck, a truck Henry recognized, sitting in front.

And this was where his son was.

This was where his son had been for the past four days. This is where he'd been tortured. This is where he'd cried.

Cried for his daddy.

"Henry?"

Snapping out of his stupor he nodded and motioned for everyone to continue on. They all managed to step onto the porch without touching the steps, knowing they'd make noise. Glancing in one of the windows Henry noted that there was no one in the main room. Motioning to his men he carefully opened the old door, cringing when he creaked slightly. They all froze, waiting for a reaction, but when nothing happened for several minutes they continued on. The six SWAT members that had accompanied them stepped in front, leading the way into the house. They could hear muffled talking down the hallway and snuck down to the only door that light peaked out from under.

Henry stood on one side of the door, Hastings at the other, a SWAT member in between, ready to throw the door open. Holding up his hand, he counted down from three, and Henry suddenly felt panicked.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I'm gonna throw up. My boy, oh but my boy…

Three…

Get a grip, Henry! Your son is in there! He needs you! You need him!

Two…

Oh God, this is it. This is it. This could be the moment I find my son dead. This could be the moment my world ends.

One!

The old, rotting door was thrust open with such force that it was thrown off it's hinges and crashed to the floor in a heap of splinters. Henry bolted in, gun at the ready, Hastings right behind him, and SWAT right behind him. But Henry paid them no mind as he took in the scene before him.

"Shawn."

There, before him, sat his son, hands sitting limply in his lap, legs tied to the legs of the chair, shoulders slumped, head hanging, and body completely covered in blood. His own blood. Henry could make out lost patches of skin that looked infect and oozed out blood and pus. He could make out carvings on his chest of symbols that held no meaning to Henry but bled like a river flowed. His face was swollen and bruised, Henry could tell even with his head hanging down. And above him stood the monster that had down this to him, knife held high in the air.

"Clarence." Henry growled.

"Henry?" Clarence asked, looking shocked, but the father could see the rage settling into his facial expression. "Henry."

"Clarence, back the fuck away from him or you'll be eating lead."

"Henry. What are you doing here? You can't be here!"

"Get away from my son!"

"I can't! It's not finished!"

"Too fuckin' bad! Whatever you're doing you're done. Now. Back. Away. From. My son." Henry spoke slowly, a growl in the back of his throat.

Clarence sneered, "Like father like son, huh? Always ruining everything."

"Shawn hasn't done anything!"

"HE KILLED MY DAUGHTER!"

"SHE KILLED HERSELF!"

"LIES! LIES!" Clarence screamed, waving the knife in the air, dangerously close to Shawn's head. "This-this demon made her! I'm going to make sure it can't hurt anyone else!"

"You're insane!" Henry cried, taking a step forward.

"I'm ridding the world of this demon. I've done everything by the book. But he—he made me mess up! I was so close! But it's ruined! There's only one thing left I can do…" Clarence lifted the knife again, drawing his arm back, ready to strike.

"Let him go! Put the knife down!" Henry screamed again, glancing at his son, seeing him lift his head weakly, looking right into his father's eyes.

Shawn.

"I can't, I'm so close. This is for his own good, can't you see that?"

Shawn blinked slowly, Daddy.

"He's dying! Damnit, let him go!" Henry all but sobbed, not taking his eyes from his son's.

It'll be ok, son.

"I'm saving him. I'm his savior."

I love you, daddy.

"You're a monster! Let him go! Shawn!"

Don't give up now!

But it was too late. Clarence drove the knife forward, slamming it into Shawn's chest. Despite his lack of strength Shawn threw his head back and screamed at the top of his lungs, an agonizing, heartbreaking scream.

Henry stopped breathing. Almost threw up.

But in the blink of an eye suddenly he'd fired his gun and Clarence was on the ground, a wound in his chest, and Henry was in front of his son as he began to tip forward off the chair.

"Shawn, Shawn. Oh God, Shawn. Baby, easy. Please." He could vaguely hear the people beside him screaming for an ambulance or whispering 'Easy, easy' as Henry lowered his son to the floor, Hastings cutting the foot restrains.

"Shawn, Shawnie. Son." Henry begged, tears streaming down his face as he hugged his son to him. He could hear the other men saying something about not taking the knife out yet, to wait for the paramedics, but as far as Henry was concerned he was alone in the cabin with his dying son.

Shawn's eyes cracked open, blood dripping down his chin. Henry continued to whisper his son's name soothingly, whispering his son's name over and over, begging him and any/every God that was out there to save his son.

Shawn blinked slowly, so slowly Henry thought that maybe he'd passed out again. But then his eyes were open slightly again and his lips moved. Mouthing one single word.

Daddy.

Henry's eyes widened, a sob ripping through his chest. "I'm here, Shawn. Shawnie. Please, son, please…" Shawn's eyes started to go out of focus and Henry turned, acknowledging the men around him for the first time, and screamed "Where the fuck are the medics?!" He barely registered as Hastings, right beside him, said 'They're coming, Henry. They just pulled up.' He focused on his son once more. "Shawn." He sobbed, begged. "Baby, baby, please…" But soon Shawn's eyes rolled back in his head and he went slack in his father's arms. Henry did the only thing he could think to do.

He screamed.

--

The ride in the ambulance was one of the worst experiences in Henry's life. He had to sit in front since everyone in the back was working. He kept himself turned around, watching the people that were working to save his son's life.

The blood…there's so much blood…

As soon as the ambulance pulled up to Santa Barbara General Henry was out and running with the EMTs as they rushed his son inside, through the main doors. He could see his son's pale face, eyes closed, a mask over his mouth.

He looks dead…is he already gone?

"Sir, sir. I'm sorry, you can't go back with us. Wait here." One of the women who'd been in the ambulance with his son said, pushing him back a bit as they rushed toward those swinging double-doors that Henry knew all too well. The ones he'd seen his son go through too many times. The ones he might have just seen him go through for the last time. Henry pressed his hand to his mouth.

Oh God…Oh God, I can't do this…

"Sir? Sir, are you all right? Maybe you should sit down…" A nurse said and he knew he must look terrible. He was probably white as a sheet, and he was covered in his son's blood. It was all over him.

I'm covered in Shawn's blood. Oh, God…

Henry found himself diving for the nearest garbage can, emptying the little that was in his stomach. He felt the nurse's soothing hand on his back, but he barely registered it. He couldn't think. All he could think was that he was completely covered in his son's blood.

I don't deserve to be comforted. Shawn wasn't comforted. He was tortured. And it's my fault for not finding him sooner. Oh, God…oh, Shawn…

Henry stood shakily, and found himself being led to the surprisingly empty waiting room, save for two men waiting in the corner, watching discretely. He found himself sitting in one of the crappy, plastic chairs, suddenly alone. He was surprised when he found himself doing something he hadn't done in years.

He prayed.

I'm not strong enough to say goodbye. Please, God, please. Please don't take my boy from me. I need him. Please…I need him…

The tortured father let his head fall into his hands and sobbed.

--

Henry had called the kids and his father several hours prior, telling them that they found Shawn, but not to come to the hospital yet. "They can't see him yet, dad." He'd said, "Not yet. I can't even handle it. Don't let them come, no matter what. It…it'll destroy them. I can't do that to them. I can't let them come…not yet."

"It's ok, son. I understand. But…he—he's alive?"

"For now."

"…"

"I'll call you when he's out of surgery."

That had been at nine o'clock. It was now three in the morning and Henry was in a pair of hospital scrubs. He'd been informed about an hour prior that his son had made it through surgery, but he still had yet to call his father. Let them sleep, he thought to himself, someone has to.

He sipped from his eighth cup of crap coffee as he paced back and forth. The two men who'd been in the corner of the room were now gone, and he was all alone.

"Mr. Spencer?" Henry spun around so quickly that the doctor standing behind him actually jumped. "Mr. Spencer, I'm Dr. Blake."

"My son?" It was all he could choke out.

"Mr. Spencer, your son…Shawn has been through a lot. But I'm sure you already know that." Blake sighed, before glancing down at the chart in his hands, as if not wanting to meet the father's eyes. "Shawn had much bruising and hemorrhaging. He lost a lot of blood from that alone. We're giving him transfusions. Some of his…patches of his skin had been…removed." The doctor seemed to be having trouble saying the tortuous things the young teen had gone through. But in return, Henry was having a hard time hearing it. "As well as some…carvings in his chest. Several of his wounds are infected, so he's on antibiotics for that, and has a slight fever because of it. He has a minor concussion, nothing horribly serious. And when your son was stabbed…thankfully it missed his heart all together, but it did pierce his left lung. We managed to fix the damage but he might find it hard to breathe for a little bit, so we have him on a ventilator at the moment."

"Is he…is he gonna live?" It was all Henry could manage to ask. There was so much to process at once.

"We lost him a few times on the table, but he's stable for now. Tonight is crucial. If he makes it though tonight there's a good chance he'll pull through."

Henry nodded, blinking slowly. "Can…can I see him?"

The doctor bit his lip, and it was obvious to Henry it was against the rules for him to see Shawn. "Well…he does need police protection. I—if anyone asks, you're with the cops watching his door, all right?"

Henry felt himself smile as more tears escaped his eyes. He scrubbed at them and nodded, "Thank you." He whispered, the two words having so much emotion. The doctor nodded, looking almost ready to almost cry himself, and led Henry to the ICU room his son had been moved to. The only room with two officers outside the door.

The father slowly stepped inside and froze at the image of his boy. It was almost worse than when he saw him in the cabin. He was now completely clean, his hair still wet from when the blood had been scrubbed from his body. His face was pale with almost-black patches all over it. There was an uncovered cut on his son's forehead with stitches on it, and he had at least one bandage on every visible part of his body. He had a tube in his mouth and was hooked up to about five different things. Heart monitor, ventilator, three different IV's, one with blood in it.

Henry took a deep breath and made himself step forward. You can do this, Henry. You have to.

He stepped up to the bed and took Shawn's hand in his, looking down at his bruised, swollen face. Tears flowed down Henry's face once again as he whispered his son's name. "Shawn?"

Almost as if in response the machines his son was hooked up to began to beep and go crazy. Several doctors and nurses came running in, and he was pushed out of the way. Panic set it as Henry realized what was going on.

Shawn was flat-lining.

--

"Baby…baby, wake up." Shawn cracked his eyes open. He wasn't in the cabin. Hell, he wasn't anywhere. "Baby."

He turned and his eyes widened at who he saw standing beside him. "M-mom?"

There stood his mother, a soft smile playing across her face. She looked just like she had when he was a little boy. Young, vibrant, happy. "Yea, baby. It's me."

"Oh…oh, God. Mom." He found himself falling forward and throwing his arms around her. "Mommy…"

He felt her cradle him to her, like she always did when he was a little boy. "It's me, baby. It's me." He pulled back, still holding her arms, afraid to let go, and looked into her eyes.

"Mom…I—I can't—am I dead?"

Madeline smiled, shaking her head. "No, baby. But you're on the edge. You have to go back."

"But…mom, I—I want to stay with you." Shawn whispered in a childlike way, pulling himself back to her and burying his face in her shoulder.

"Oh, Shawnie. What about your father? And Gus? You know what this would do to them…and what about that new boyfriend of yours?"

Shawn smiled a little, "You…you've been watching?"

"You bet your ass I have! Why wouldn't I?" She pulled back, a smile on her face, hands on his shoulders and holding him at arm's length. "Shawn, you…you have no idea how proud I am of you." Shawn's eyes widened. "You've grown into such a man. I know most adults would never be able to deal with all that you have on your plate…and you've mastered it with such truth and grace. You're a good boy." She wrapped her arms around him once again, and Shawn hugged back tightly, something he missed so much. "And don't you ever, ever think what I did was because of you. The only thing holding me back was you. Do you understand me?" Shawn nodded into his mother's shoulder, tears in his eyes.

"Oh, mommy…" He whispered, choking on his sobs. "I missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, baby. But don't forget," She took a step back and held him at arms length once again. "I'm always with you." Shawn nodded, sniffling. "Now go, they need you down there more than I do."

Shawn nodded and took a step back. "Bye, mommy."

"It's not bye, baby. It's…see you later." She waved, a warm smile on her face.

That smile was the last thing he saw as his world went white.

--

"Wait…I—I've got a rhythm! He's back with us!"

Henry felt himself burst with joy by those simple words. He nearly collapsed with relief. He pressed his hand to his mouth, tears of joy mingling with the tears of fear. Shawn is alive.

Shawn's eyes cracked open slightly, "Wait…wait! He-he's waking up!" Cried an astonished doctor.

Henry threw himself forward, actually pushing one of the doctors out of the way, and grabbed his son's hand. "Shawn? Son?" He gripped his hand tightly, smoothing back Shawn's wet hair and smiling, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Shawnie?"

Shawn was unable to smile around the tube in his mouth, but Henry could see it in his son's eyes. Shawn was smiling.

I'm ok, Daddy. Don't be scared.

A happy sob ripped through Henry's chest. "Oh, Shawn." He hugged his son close, careful of his wounds, and sobbed, chanting his son's name over and over again.

His boy was alive.

--

Oh Lord, I found this one a little heart breaking. How about you? I have tissues! –holds out box-

Thanks for reading!!

-claire