Sometimes he questions how he got into this business in the first place. Certainly, he knows the how behind it, but he wonders why he ever called in tips to the police, why he ever listened to his dad during his childhood.

Granted, he only questions his life decisions when he's in a life-or-death situation. Like he is now.

He chased after Jacob Henley because he was sure that Jacob was in danger (and Lassie wasn't too keen on investigating it, and Henry certainly will chew Shawn out for throwing himself into another life-threatening situation later, but that's another matter for another time), and his hunch was correct: Jacob is dead. He found him lying on the ground, blood spurting from his neck like a fountain. He called Lassie a few minutes ago, and at Lassiter's tone, he left the scene of the crime immediately.

He heard someone cock a gun, and now he's sprinting away as fast as he can. Gus is on a date with a girl, and Shawn doesn't want to jinx it by calling him to save him. Besides, Shawn isn't too keen on risking anyone's life but his own at the moment.

The suspect fires his gun and the bullet misses Shawn by a hair.

"C'mon, Shawn, I taught you to zig-zag a long time ago. We're doing it again."

"But, Dad, I don't think I'm ever going to be chased by a guy with a gun! What if I'm not a cop?"

"Regardless of if you join the force or not, I want you to be prepared if you ever end up in a situation like this. Now run!"

Shawn ducks and weaves back and forth, back and forth. The suspect fires again, but Shawn stays low. The blood on his hands has begun to dry. It's sticky. It's gross.

It means someone died because he was too late.

In that moment of distraction, the suspect aims randomly and fires. The bullet tears through Shawn's knee. His knee buckles, Shawn screams, and he falls.

"Fuck," he grits through his teeth, holding his knee in his left hand. The pain stabs through his entire being, and he rolls onto his back. "I- this is so much worse than getting shot in the shoulder."

The suspect is hooded, and he points the gun at Shawn again. Before he can do much about it, another silhouette stands behind the hooded figure. "Drop your weapon!"

Oh, thank God. Jules is his knight in shining armor.

The figure huffs and drops his gun, letting it clatter to the ground.

"Hands where I can see them!"

Another person runs up behind Jules, and Shawn groans, letting his head hit the ground beneath him. "Hey, Dad."

"You, Shawn, are an idiot."

"Yeah, Dad, I get it. Can we talk about this later? Like at the hospital? Or maybe after?"

"Shawn, shut up." Juliet glares at him until Shawn lifts his free hand in surrender, and then she turns to the suspect. "Avery Wilpher, you're under arrest for drug possession, attempted murder, and the murder of Jacob Henley. Put your hands behind your back."

Wilpher complies, and Juliet holsters her gun and handcuffs him. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."

Once she leads him away, casting an apologetic look at Shawn, Henry hurries over. "Why didn't you call someone to come bail you out of this mess?" He reaches his hand out, and Shawn takes it.

"Well, Dad," Shawn says, groaning in pain once he's on his feet, "Gus was a little busy tonight. He's with a great girl, I didn't wanna screw that up." He sways on his feet and swears.

Henry steadies him. "Why didn't you call me? I'm your father, I would have come in a heartbeat. Besides, you shouldn't risk Gus's life like that."

Shawn nods furiously. "Yeah, Dad, that's why I didn't call him!" He looks into his father's eyes, and he sees the same question: why didn't you call me? "And," he says, running his free hand through his hair, "I…I didn't want to worry you. Or interrupt you. Or wake you up."

"Shawn, I bailed you out of Canadian prison, do you really think that I wouldn't help you out now?"

Shawn licks his lips. "Dad, can we just get to the hospital? This gunshot wound hurts like a bitch."

Henry nods and holds up a hand. "We will in just a sec, just…I want you to answer me: did you really think I wouldn't help you out?"

Shawn runs his tongue over his top row of teeth. "No, that's not- I knew you would, and I didn't- I didn't want to put your life in danger. It's fine if it's my life at stake, and I won't ever call Gus into a situation once I've been endangered, and the only reason I call Lassie or Jules is because they're trained cops –"

"I'm a trained cop, Shawn."

"Yeah, but you're old…er, and you're –" he waves a hand ambiguously. "You're my dad." He sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. "I don't want to put you in danger."

"I'd rather myself be in danger than you." Henry sighs and jerks his head towards the car. "C'mon, I'll take you to the hospital."

Shawn hops after him, his free hand digging into Henry's shoulder. "You'll let me bleed all over your truck?"

"It's an old truck," Henry says, glancing over his shoulder. He shrugs. "Besides, I have a towel in the bed."

Henry helps Shawn into the truck and wraps the towel around his knee. Once he's in the car, however, Henry notices the blood on Shawn's hand. "That's not yours," he says, pointing to the red stain on Shawn's right hand.

Shawn looks down. "Oh. Yeah, I tried to help the victim, but um…" he licks his lips. "I was too late."

"Do the police know about that? Your prints will be all over him."

Shawn looks up sharply. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I called Lassie and told him. They know."

Henry purses his lips and opens the glove compartment. "Here," he says, passing Shawn an alcohol wipe, "clean it off."

Shawn scrubs his right hand. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime."