Chapter 5
Shawn's full attention was on his own breathing as Gus helped him into the apartment, the short walk leaving him breathless and increasing the pain in his chest. He did his best to mask all of this however, not wanting to give his friend any reason to take him back to the hospital, even though he was fully aware that the hospital was probably the only place he should be heading right now. Aside form breathing difficulties, he also felt incredibly weak and exhausted, his aching body and pounding headache were getting worse, he'd started to produce disgusting mucus every time he coughed (which unluckily for Shawn was becoming more frequent), he just couldn't stop shaking, and he was sweating profusely.
Noticing that Shawn was now leaning heavily against him, Gus changed his mind about taking him all the way over to the bedroom and sat his friend down on the couch instead, "Your breathing doesn't sound too good."
"I'm fine." Came the short reply.
Gus frowned and felt his friends forehead, "You're really burning up." He got the the thermometer and took Shawn's temperature, "103.8?! That's it Shawn, I'm taking you back to the hospital."
"No!" The fake psychic replied defensively, there was no way he was going back there, not without a fight, "I'm just tired..."
Gus raised an eyebrow at Shawn's overreaction, What's he so afraid of? He wondered, "What's with your sudden irrational fear of hospitals?"
"OK first of all, I have no 'irrational fear', and secondly, who goes to the hospital with the flu?"
"Uh...On average, over two hundred thousand people in the United States each year alone" Gus gave him the statistics, "...Although going off the symptoms you have now, you probably have a chest infection...Maybe even pneumonia."
"I don't have pneumonia." He coughed loudly, wincing as the pain in his chest increased.
"Shawn, you can't not have an illness just because you don't want to go to the hospital." Gus sighed, "Besides, it could be walking pneumonia."
"Gus don't be ridiculous...Everyone knows pneumonia can't walk." The fake psychic rolled his eyes, "Plus, I can't get it twice."
"Dude it's not the chicken pox, and since when have you ever had pneumonia?"
"Eighth grade...Remember?" He managed through coughs.
Gus thought about that for a second, then shot his friend an exasperated look, "That was bronchitis Shawn..."
"It felt like pneumonia..." He muttered, rubbing a shaky hand down his face, "I need to sleep."
"Yup." Gus agreed.
Shawn looked down at the torn dirty clothing he'd been wearing for the past couple of days, "I should probably change my clothes too..."
Gus headed towards the wardrobe, "I'll go get you a t-shirt and some sweatpants."
Shawn stood up slowly and started to walk unsteadily towards the bedroom, wincing slightly as the pain in his chest intensified. He could feel his legs begin the buckle, but he thankfully managed reach the bed before he collapsed to the ground and drew any unnecessary attention to himself.
Gus turned to him, "How many times have I told you to quit stealing my clothes Shawn?"
"I don't know...Was I supposed to keep count?" Shawn asked innocently, somehow managing to keep the smirk from his face.
Gus chucked a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt at his friend, "Just put those on why I go get you some fever meds." He headed back out to the Blueberry, knowing full well that there'd be no fever medication in Shawn's apartment. When he returned he found his friend (now wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants) in a heap on the floor, "Dude, what happened?" He asked, putting the medication down on a side table and rushing to his aid.
"Huh...?" Shawn blinked, looking up at him in confusion.
Gus helped Shawn back up onto the bed, "Did you pass out?" He asked in concern, really not liking how dazed and pale is friend was looking.
Shawn lay down and held the covers tightly against himself, chills wrecking through his body, "Think I just stood up too quickly." He mumbled feverishly.
Gus poured him a glass of water from out of the kitchen and grabbed the fever medication from the side table, "Here, take these." He instructed, helping Shawn to lean forwards as he took the medication.
Shawn let his friend take the glass back off him and lay back down again, "Thanks Dude." He watched as Gus took the half empty glass away, and gave a heavy sigh when his friend returned with a bowl of water and a washcloth.
"Quit complaining Shawn, you know I need to keep your fever down." He wet the cloth and placed it on his friends forehead, "Try to get some sleep Dude." He added softly, unable to keep the concern from his voice.
"I think I've been poisoned." Shawn announced suddenly, trying his best to stay awake long enough to tell Gus his theory, and fighting against the tug of sleep that was pulling him closer.
"What...?" Gus could tell his friend was struggling to stay awake now.
"I think the Grim Reaper poisoned me when I was in the hospital to force me to go back there so he can kill me." Shawn slurred slightly as he tried to give as coherent an explanation as possible. His high fever and exhaustion not helping any.
"Shawn that makes absolutely no sense," Gus ignored his friends indignant huff, "Why poison you to make you go back to the hospital? He could have just killed you there and then."
"Uh..." Ok, he has a point, Shawn realised, surprised he hadn't considered that himself. It wasn't going to make him back down any however, in fact the challenge seemed to wake him up a little, "I had a ridiculously high fever remember, there were doctors and nurses all around me..."
"That's exactly my point Shawn, if there were so many people around you, how could the killer have poisoned you?"
"Dude I was totally out of it, they were all busy trying to get my fever down...Everyone was distracted, it was the perfect time to poison me." He stifled a yawn, his sudden bout of energy being short-lived.
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Gus sighed, wetting the washcloth again and placing it back on his friends head, "OK then, what can I do to help?" He asked reluctantly, knowing that the only way he could get his friend to rest was by playing along.
A small tired smile appeared on the fake psychic's face, "I really need to get a look at those files Dude. If the Grim Reapers in them, I'll know it."
"Shawn I'm not leaving you alone when you're like this, and there's no way in hell you're going down to the station." Gus told his friend firmly.
"But Gus...!" He whined pathetically.
"If you want those files you're gonna have to rest, like Juliet said."
"I am resting!" He retorted stubbornly, finding it increasingly more difficult to keep his eyes open.
Gus glared at his friend, "You're doing your best not to fall asleep Shawn."
"How can I sleep when you keep shoving those things on my head?" He mumbled tiredly, his eye lids feeling heavy now, and the pull of sleep growing stronger. He rubbed his hand across his eyes in a last bid attempt to stay awake.
Gus took the washcloth from his friend's forehead and dipped it back into the water, "I already told you Shawn, I need to get your fever down." As he looked up from what he was doing, he realised that his friend had finally fallen asleep. Gus smiled slightly as he placed the wet cloth back gently on his forehead, his friend didn't seem all that restful, but at least he was getting some sleep.
The soft coaxing of his friend's voice awoke Shawn a couple of hours later, the faking psychic blinking rapidly in a bid to 'unblur' his bleary eyes. Once his vision was clear enough, he realised that Woody Strode, SBPD's coroner was stood in front of his bed, smiling, with a syringe in his hand, "Am I dead...?" Shawn croaked in confusion.
"Not yet, I've just come to draw some blood so I can run a Tox Screen" Woody answered cheerfully.
A weak smile appeared on Shawn's face and he turned to his best friend, "Thanks buddy."
"Don't thank me Shawn, I'm only doing this so I can prove you wrong and finally take you to the hospital." Gus huffed.
As Woody took Shawn's arm, he couldn't help but notice the heat radiating off the younger man, "Wow, you're really hot." He leaned in closer, "And I don't just mean in an attractive way." He joked, smiling when the younger man chuckled slightly, "OK, this shouldn't hurt...Much." He winked as he drew the blood, "That should do it."
"Thanks man." Shawn wheezed, his chest feeling heavier and more painful than before.
"You should get some sleep Shawn." The coroner instructed as he put the blood sample away, "I'll get right on this...If there's poison, I'll find it."
Shawn tried to answer, but it turned into a coughing fit, pain etched across his features as he learnt forward, tissue in hand, trying to catch all the disgusting mucus.
"Shawn..." Worry was evident in Gus' voice as he held out an empty bucket in front of his friend, "Use this."
The fake psychic took the offered object, dispelling the yellowy-green mucus into it, his breathing rapid as he desperately tried to catch his breath, "Don't feel so good..." He groaned as he passed the bucket back to his friend.
"Drink this." Woody said as he took the lid off a bottle of water and held it out to Shawn, realising that the younger man was shaking too much to hold the water himself, the coroner held the bottle up to his lips, allowing the water to dispel slowly into the younger mans mouth, taking it away again when it became obvious that he'd had enough and helping him to lie back down again.
Noticing how panicked his friend looked, Shawn tried his best to muster up a reassuring smile, "I'm fine buddy." He managed shakily, his breathing sounding even worse than before.
"No you're not Shawn!" Gus snapped harshly, causing his friend flinch slightly, "I just hate seeing you so damn sick." He admitted with a sigh, wiping a hand down his face.
"I know man."
"Well, I'd love to stay and chat some more, but I've got work to do." Woody announced, making a move for the door, then turning back to Gus, "Oh, and if he drops dead while I'm gone, you know where I'll be."
"He's not gonna drop dead." Gus retorted as he saw the coroner out.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that buddy..." Shawn interjected.
"Shut up Shawn!"
Gus walked back with a thermometer, ignoring his friend's sigh, "Suck it Shawn, you're temperature's been fluctuating from the low 102's to the high 103's for the past couple of hours."
"What's with this 'fluctuating' word everybody keeps throwing around all of a sudden?" The fake psychic questioned, "It sounds like something a bird should be doing."
Gus shoved the thermometer into his friend's mouth, and waited for it to beep, "103.2..." He read aloud, somewhat absent-mindedly, "It's high, but not as bad as I was expecting considering."
"See, told you I was fine..." Shawn yawned, the overwhelming urge to sleep taking over his body once more.
"Uh-uh." Gus replied, unconvinced, watching as his friend fell into another fitful slumber.
Gus jumped up almost immediately when he heard a knock on the door, praying inwardly that it was Woody coming to tell them that Shawn's blood showed no sign of poison. After all the quicker that happened, the quicker he could get his friend to go to the hospital. Gus was unable to keep the disappointment from his face when he opened the door to find Lassiter standing there.
"I've got those files." The head detective announced as he brushed past the younger man "Is he awake?"
Gus raised an eyebrow, Wait...Has Lassie brought the files over JUST so he can see how Shawn's doing? He wondered, "Shawn's pretty out of it, I'm having trouble getting his fever down."
Lassiter's brow furrowed when he laid eyes on the fake psychic, it was unsettling to see the usually energetic younger man looking so weak and lethargic. He was drenched in his own sweat, he had a feverish look in his eyes, and he was mumbling incoherently, "Guster, I'm no doctor, but he really doesn't seem right."
"I know." Gus sighed as he filled the bowl up with more water, "I'm pretty sure he has pneumonia."
"And he's not in the hospital because...?" Lassiter did his best to keep his tone even.
Gus placed the washcloth onto his friend's forehead, "He thinks he's been poisoned."
Lassiter raised an eyebrow, "Come again?"
The younger man just shook his head, "It's a long story...That honestly doesn't make much sense, but until he knows that he hadn't been poisoned, he's refusing to go to the hospital." He glanced towards the door, "I'm waiting for Woody to get back to us with the Toxicology results."
"Guster, in the state Spencer's in right now, we could drive him to the hospital and he'd be none the wiser."
Gus thought about that for a moment, maybe Lassiter was right.
"...Not going to the hospital..." Shawn croaked weakly, "Grim Reaper..."
"Spencer don't be an idiot, you need to see a Doctor."
"Detective Lassiter..." Shawn slurred feverishly, his breathing noticeably raspy, "Are you worried about me...?"
It never ceased to amaze Lassiter how much Shawn Spencer could rile him up, regardless of the state the so-called psychic was in. The head detective held the files out to the younger man, "Just have a look through those, and let me know once you're done Spencer."
Shawn groaned tiredly, making a pathetic attempt to push the offending objects away, "Sleep..." He mumbled.
Lassiter frowned slightly and placed the files down on the bedside table, knowing that there was something seriously untoward if Shawn Spencer was feeling too ill to look through the files he'd been desperately trying to get his hands on, and a quick glance towards Gus told the head detective that he was thinking the same thing. He was snapped back from his musings however when Gus' cellphone rang, and figuring it could be Strode getting back to him with the results, he decided to stick around a little longer.
"So...What have I been poisoned with?" Shawn wheezed once Gus had finished on the phone.
"Nothing." Gus replied.
Shawn blinked in confusion, "Wait...No, that can't be right..." He winced at a sharp pain in his chest, "Tell...Him to...Run it...Again." He managed, finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe.
"Shawn, you said that if Woody can't find any poison then you'd go to the hospital." Gus reminded him, feeling uneasy at how breathless his friend was becoming.
"Actually...It was you...Who said that...Gus."
"Damnit Shawn!" Gus snapped, he just wanted to get his friend to the hospital as quickly as possible.
"Spencer, are you OK?" Lassiter asked suddenly, "I looks like you're lips are starting to turn blue..."
"Can't..." The fake psychic choked, his eyes widening and legs thrashing out in a panic as he tried desperately to catch his breath, "...Breathe..."