"…Hey, buddy."
The sound of Shawn's voice—however weary and worn it was—sent a ripple of relief through all five of them.
Juliet felt tears burn her eyes at his voice, her heart in her throat.
Shawn.
"Shawn!" exclaimed Gus. "Are you alright?!" he asked.
It took Shawn a moment to answer, and when he did, Juliet felt her own breathing stutter to hear just how weak he came off. "Define… alright," came his delayed, uneven response.
God, she's never heard him sound like that before.
Not even when—
"This call... is to say goodbye."
The scariest call she'd ever, ever gotten.
She could hear the toll the pain and exhaustion the gunshot had taken on him the last time he was kidnapped.
But now...
God, he sounded so much worse.
Panic froze her chest.
"Shawn," said Henry suddenly, taking the phone out of Gus' hand and holding it closer to himself. "Where are you, son? Are you safe?"
"Someone get a trace on this call!" called the Chief sharply toward the officers who were all already watching the group of them. "Now!"
Two officers rushed to the computer sitting at a desk, not too far from where the group was standing. One of them typed at the keyboard, a map jumping to life on the screen, the other officer looking over his shoulder.
"I'm… I'm in a closet," came from the phone, all eyes snapping back to the device in Henry's hand. There was something... off about his voice, and the way he answered the question. Juliet felt her own chest tighten, all of them hearing the strange lilt to Shawn's tone. He sounded... confused.
"A closet?" asked Henry hollowly, the useless information gaining recognition from no one. Henry rubbed his face, looking helplessly from the faces around him to the officers tracking the call. "Shawn—"
"Is—is Lassie with you?" asked Shawn suddenly, his voice a fraction stronger, sounding more like himself.
Everyone turned to look at Lassiter.
"Spencer!" Lassiter exclaimed. "What the hell were you doing at a sketchy cab station?"
"Lassiter!" hissed Vick, shooting a glare toward him.
"In my defense… I didn't know it was sketchy… at the time," said Shawn unsteadily. The breaths he took were audible, clenching fear into Juliet's chest.
She stared at the phone with burning eyes.
This was not the space she asked for.
"Lassie…" said Shawn, words slow and heavy-sounding. "You... you met my kidnappers."
A small silence washed over the group as they turned to Lassiter, who froze at Shawn's words. Juliet's head snapped to Lassiter, watching realization dawn in the man's eyes.
Lassiter hissed a vulgar word under his breath. "I met them," he growled, like the anger was aimed at himself. "Those two men at the cab station. I met them." He sighed sharply. "They were claiming to be drivers at that damned station—"
"You met them?" demanded Henry, taking a step closer to Lassiter, a subtle red hue coloring his face. "You're telling me that you were face-to-face with the sons of bitches who kidnapped my son—!"
"I didn't know they kidnapped him!" growled Lassiter at Henry.
The men who took Shawn had been at the station.
At the same time she and Lassiter were.
If they were there—
Had Shawn been right there too?
Juliet couldn't breathe.
"Do you know why they took you, Shawn?" asked the Chief suddenly, her glare shifting between Henry and Lassiter.
"Something…" whispered Shawn, his voice much quieter than it had been a moment ago. "Something..." he tried again, like he couldn't remember the question he was asked. That confused lilt was back in his voice, edging on delirium. Shawn continued, however, ever stubborn, the strength in his words uneven, "Something about money. At the station."
The money.
Juliet, Lassiter and the Chief turned to the bag of money sitting in the Chief's office. "That?" said Lassiter incredulously. "That's what this is all about?"
"If they want that for Shawn," said Gus suddenly, "then let's just give it to them!" He started for the office, but Lassiter grabbed Gus' arm, yanking him back.
"It's just money!" growled Gus. "Shawn's life is worth more than that!"
"Guster," said Lassiter, sounding almost reluctant, "it doesn't work that way. We can't negotiate with kidnappers."
Juliet felt her eyes shut at the words that had already been running through her mind.
But damn it, Gus was right.
Juliet didn't care at this point what happened with Shawn, what lies he told, or what happened between them.
"You saved me," he'd said after she'd saved him from Elin.
"I'm a cop, Shawn," she'd told him, like it was a fact, like it was the only reason.
Turned out Shawn wasn't the only liar between them.
Gus' eyes narrowed and he glared at Lassiter. "Look, Lassiter," said Gus, his voice dark, "I know you don't like Shawn. You've made that very clear. But he's my best friend and you better damn well trade that money for him or I swear to god—"
"Mr. Guster—" began the Chief.
"Gus," said Henry, cutting him off.
"What?" snapped Gus.
"Lassiter's right," said Henry, seeming to force the two words through his teeth. "Police can't negotiate with kidnappers."
"But—" began Gus. "But… it's Shawn!" He turned to the Chief. "You can't be serious—!"
But the same reluctance, the same pain, in each of them was also in the Chief's eyes.
"Shawn," said the Chief suddenly, like she was rapidly looking for a solution.
Because Gus was right.
Losing Shawn wasn't an option.
"What can you tell us about the people who took you?" asked the Chief. "Did you hear any names?"
No answer.
The group exchanged looks with one another.
"Shawn!" said Henry, fear bright and sharp.
"It's still connected; it hasn't dropped," said Gus, panicked. "Shawn!"
Nothing.
Only silence filled their rapidly growing tension.
Juliet couldn't breathe.
"Damn it," hissed Lassiter, yelling, "SPENCER!"
It was a few second before they could hear a hissed curse, the profanity like music to all of them.
"I'm here," said Shawn finally, the words quiet and barely above a mumble, but collectively they all let out a breath.
"We know what they're after," said Lassiter, after heaving his own short breath of relief. "We—"
"Son, you said you were hurt," said Henry suddenly, interrupting Lassiter.
Juliet felt herself flash back to the wreck of the cab.
"Something hit the windshield."
"Or someone."
Shawn was hurt.
And there was only more and more space between his responses and their questions.
He was fading.
"Mhm," mumbled Shawn, and it took a moment for the group to even register that the small sound was from him.
"Shawn!" Henry nearly shouted. "Stay with us, kid! Now, where are you hurt?"
"M'head," slurred Shawn, shooting a panicked look across five faces. "I'm…" His voice only grew quieter. "I'm really tired."
"No, Shawn! You have to stay awake!"
They looked to Juliet, whose voice—whose fear—had broken out of her.
If he passed out with a head injury like that—
She felt ice trail through her.
She could spend her life angry with him.
But she could not lose him.
There was a pause from Shawn's line.
"J-Jules?"
His nickname for her twisted her chest, with longing and with pain.
Quietly, she said, "Yeah, Shawn, it's me."
The Chief shot a look to the officers tracking the call, trying to see how close they were.
"Where are the people who took you?" asked the chief suddenly, turning back to the phone.
Shawn hesitated again, struggling to simply keep up with the conversation.
God, she's never heard him struggle with words.
Except, maybe—
"Can I just say what I came here to say please?"
When they got together.
And... and when—
"Please don't make me answer that."
Juliet shook herself.
"I dunno," slurred Shawn.
"We've got a trace on him!" the officer at the computer shouted.
Every head whipped toward him, the Chief at their side in seconds.
He rattled off an address that Juliet hoped Lassiter heard, because she couldn't hear anything except the pounding of her heart in her ears.
They found him.
They found him.
Juliet's heart was beating so loud in her ears, she and Lassiter running over to the computer, but she barely heard the address the officers rattled off. But Lassiter was nodding, listening intently.
"Let's move," said Lassiter, the group of them running outside, the Chief shouting instructions for the rest of the officers. "He's in an apartment building about thirty minutes out," said Lassiter as Gus and Henry caught up to them. "Follow us, but stay out of the—"
"Shawn's not responding!" exclaimed Gus, panicked, the phone to his ear. "Shawn!" he shouted again toward the phone, his voice nearly cracking with fear.
"He's not?" asked Juliet sharply, her heart jumping into her throat, fear shooting down her spine.
"The call's still going," said Henry, taking the phone as they ran down the steps, his face white with fear. "Shawn!" he yelled himself. "Dammit!" he cursed, voice breaking a little with panic and frustration. "He's not answering!"
The group of them suddenly stopped next to where Lassiter's Fusion and Henry's truck were parked.
The four exchanged a quick look, from the phone to each other, all seeming to be thinking the same thing.
Gus voiced their mutual question.
"Who's going to stay on the line with him?" asked Gus breathlessly.
"I'm his father," said Henry firmly, holding the phone closer to him possessively.
"No, you're driving," said Gus firmly. "And I'm his best friend, but…" Gus looked to Juliet. "If anyone's going to get his attention..." He held the phone out to her. "It's you."
Juliet swallowed hard at the feeling that shot down her spine, but she nodded and took the phone, following Lassiter into the car.
Gus and Henry ran to Henry's truck, but Lassiter was speeding down the street with his sirens blaring before Juliet saw either of the men even climb into it.
Juliet pressed the phone to her ear with trembling fingers. "Shawn?" asked Juliet shakily.
She should have been answering his messages.
She shouldn't have been screening his calls.
What if one of those missed calls was him needing her help?
Her breath hitched.
Lassiter sped through a red light, siren blaring.
"Shawn," said Juliet desperately, louder. "Shawn, say something!"
Nine calls.
Nine.
And each time she watched as her phone sent his calls to voicemail.
Lassiter took a sharp left, and the suddenness of it almost made her drop the phone.
"He's not answering, Carlton." she said, tears burning her eyes.
What if they found him?
What if he was already—
"Shawn!" she said, voice somehow more firm and more broken all at once. "Carlton," she broke out, vulnerability slipping out from beneath the steel armor she hid it behind. "He's not saying anything," she whispered, her voice wobbling the words.
"Keep talking to him," replied Lassiter shortly.
"Shawn," she repeated.
If anyone's going to get his attention, it's you.
She took a shallow breath.
"Look," she said. "I... I need to know that you're okay." The words were heavy and honest. "Talk to me." Her eyes burned. "Please, Shawn—" She cut off her words just before she felt her voice would crack. She swallowed.
What if she's already lost him?
What if she never—
"Anything?" clipped Lassiter, casting a glance at her.
"No," said Juliet, then shifting her gaze to the road, she realized just how fast Lassiter was driving. She swallowed her fear, and yelled Shawn's name again.
And again.
And again.
Juliet took a shaking breath, stressing his name again, "Shawn! Shawn, answer me!"
But then she heard it.
The shuffle of movement from the phone.
And then—
"Jules?"
She nearly collapsed into her seat in relief. "Shawn, thank god!"
"He's back?" said Lassiter suddenly, whipping toward her.
Shawn's alive.
He's alive.
Juliet nodded, telling Shawn, "I've been trying to talk to you for the past fifteen minutes!"
She was met by another silence, making her chest tighten again, but this time, she could hear his breathing.
"Shawn, what happened?" she asked, fingers clutching the phone tighter, as if it could bring him closer.
"I—" whispered Shawn, out of breath, and Juliet felt a pull in her chest at his weakness. "I think I passed out." Shawn let loose a pained grunt, a hissed curse, and it sent Juliet's response out the window and her heart into a frenzy.
"Shawn?!" she asked desperately.
It took him a moment to reply. "I… I think," he began unsteadily, "I know… a way out," he whispered.
"We're on our way," said Juliet. She rambled off to Shawn about the apartment building Lassiter mentioned.
She waited for a reply.
But it wasn't coming.
Her heart pounded, fear wrapping fingers around it.
"Shawn, talk to me!" said Juliet suddenly, her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest.
"J-Jules, I'm—" began Shawn in a low, strained voice, his nickname for her tearing at her heart. But his words cut off, and it sent panic into her heart. "Shit," he hissed, but this time it wasn't out of pain.
It was out of fear.
"What is it?!" asked Juliet desperately, her hand holding the phone so tightly it was bound to crack.
"We're five minutes out," said Lassiter quickly, shooting concerned glances her way every few seconds. He took another hard left, and Juliet grasped tightly to her seatbelt as the turn sent her into the door.
But suddenly, she heard the distinct sound of glass shattering from the phone.
"Shawn!" she cried.
Not a second later, the line went dead, blaring a flatline.
"SHAWN!" She ripped the phone away from her ear. No. No. "It's dead, Carlton, the call dropped!"
"We're almost there," he said, stepping on the gas, unable to hide the fear in his own eyes.
It was an agonizing four and a half minutes until Lennox Apartments came into view. Lassiter slammed on his breaks, jolting the car to a stop, and he and Juliet were running to the building seconds after. They weren't the first to arrive to the scene. A few patrol cars had beat them here. Various voices shouted SBPD, the announcement echoing loudly in the air. Officers were running inside the building, vests on, guns out.
"Detectives!" an officer called, standing in front of a patrol car, waving them over. Both Juliet and Lassiter had drawn their guns. Juliet looked up at the apartment building. The wood was so dark it seemed almost charred. A rusting sign hung on the front, reading Lennox Apartments — For Lease in faded ink. The officer turned toward the building. "I already have teams inside the building searching for your man."
Without another word, Juliet and Lassiter rushed through the doorway and into the darkened building.
Henry and Gus arrived only minutes after the Chief did.
Henry parked his truck haphazardly in the middle of the road, jumping out and sprinting to the building with a speed he didn't think he had anymore.
"Karen!" he called when he spotted her in the mess of lights and noise, directing the swarm of officers heading into the building. Henry looked up at the mess of a structure, falling apart and eaten by mold and bad financial decisions.
"Henry," said Karen, cutting off her conversation with the officer she was talking to, turning to him. "We have teams searching the apartment. Keep your distance," she said firmly, seeming to read the emotion in his eyes. However, there was just as much in hers. Her voice softened a bit and she promised, "We'll find him."
Gus was suddenly at Henry's side, panting. He doubled over, out of breath. "Could—you park—any further—away?" he panted, looking up at the man.
Henry rooted his feet to the ground, trying to fight the urge to sprint up the molding steps into the building to find his son himself.
Shawn was inside.
Shawn was hurt.
His son was in danger, and he had to sit tight and wait.
Henry sighed sharply, rubbing the back of his neck and took a few steps back, trying to rid his anxiety.
They were going to find Shawn.
Shawn was going to be fine.
Henry didn't even realize he'd started walking away until Gus caught up to him.
"Mr. Spencer," he said, trying to keep up with Henry's brisk pace. "Where are you going?"
Henry stopped.
He was suddenly staring at the side of the building, something on the ground catching his notice. Before he knew what he was doing, he was jogging across the pavement toward it.
"Mr. Spencer!"
Something had glinted the setting sun off the ground. Henry walked over to where a fire escape seemed to have fallen apart. But the entire apartment building was a mess; this could easily have happened in a storm years ago.
Henry ran his eyes over the debris.
He froze.
Shawn's phone.
Shawn's phone was lying on the ground, the screen facing the sky, but cracked.
"Gus!" said Henry quickly, quickly picking up the device, heart hammering only faster. "It's Shawn's phone!" he breathed, his head jerking up.
But why was it over here?
Some commotion by the patrol cars had Henry and Gus sprinting back just as Juliet and Lassiter came out of the building with three other officers.
They were carrying out an unmoving body.
Henry's heart jumped into his throat.
Please… don't let it be…
He pushed his way past the few officers scattered in the lot, eyes burning with nightmare images he'd never be able to live with.
Breathing hard, Henry took a tentative step closer, forcing himself to look down at he body.
He sighed in relief.
It wasn't Shawn.
"Found this guy on the fourth floor," said Lassiter to Karen, as they laid the man—dark-skinned, with enough tattoos to keep a whole parlor in business with only him alone—down on the pavement. "Cause of death: bullet to the head."
Sure enough, a bullet hole was centered between the man's closed eyes.
Henry looked down, heart still beating rapidly from the thought of watching the officers potentially carrying his son's lifeless body.
"He's one of the men I met at the station," said Lassiter grimly, looking at Karen. "He's one of the men who took Shawn."
"Did you find him?" demanded Henry. "Shawn—did you find him?"
Both detectives shook their head, concern only ripening more in everyone.
Henry's heart gained speed. He turned away from the body, looking back to where he'd found Shawn's phone—
His eyes found the shattered fire escape again.
His gaze followed the path of debris from the broken pieces of the staircase.
And they all lead in one direction.
"They're in the forest!" exclaimed Henry, pointing to the fire escape. "Shawn must have been chased down by his other captor," he said, adrenaline kicking into his veins.
All eyes followed Henry's to the fire escape; sometimes Henry wondered how the Department noticed anything since he retired.
Without waiting for any response, Henry turned and sped toward the forest.
"Henry!" he heard Karen yell.
But Henry was already disappearing into the trees.
It was time to find his son.
"Damn it—" hissed Lassiter, as he and Juliet pulled their guns again and ran after Henry. "O'Hara, you go right," he shouted. "I'll go left. It'll be easier to find Shawn if we split up!"
They disappeared into the forest.
Gus hesitated for half a second, then ran after them, ignoring the Chief's shouted "Mr. Guster!"
Shawn was hurt and in danger, like hell his partner isn't going in there after him.
Adopting the detectives' plan of splitting up, Gus decided to go neither left nor right. He went straight. He kept a breakneck pace, ignoring the twigs and branches that whipped into his face. A bug whizzed by his ear and Gus slapped it away, barely containing a shriek. His chest tightened quickly, protesting his sudden expense of energy but he ignored it. Gus wasn't about to slow down.
He needed to find his best friend.
Gus passed tree after tree, squinting as the sun cast deep orange rays through the branches, the light beginning to fade.
The trees were dense, holding a sort of heaviness in the air after the thunderstorm that morning, like a damp heat.
Or maybe that was just his own fear.
Twigs snapped under his feet, each small noise making him jump. He couldn't hear Lassiter or Juliet's footsteps anymore.
"Shawn!" shouted Gus, then with a delayed realization, he slapped a hand over his own mouth, a terrifying realization hitting him.
There was a reason the detectives didn't want Henry going into the forest. And a reason they wouldn't want him in here, either.
Because Shawn wasn't the only person in this forest.
There was a killer in here, too.
With a shaking breath and the urge to run fast in the other direction, Gus steeled himself.
Shawn needed him.
Trying to make his steps quieter, Gus continued on.
Gus took another few steps, carefully distributing his weight over mossy ground, when he heard it.
Rustling.
Someone was nearby.
Fear spiking into his veins, Gus froze. There was a possible murderer standing only feet away from him, somewhere, shifting the leaves.
Gus strained his ears, trying to manage the panic rushing through him.
A twig snapped.
Gus' heart beat rapidly against his rib cage. Fearless Gustor, he reminded himself. Another branch shifted, closer. Terrified, Gus followed the source of the noise, slowly turning his head to the right. Someone was standing on the other side of the tree. Gus slowly crouched down and picked up the first thing his fingers came into contact with-a rock.
Gus took a step on the massive root of the tree, ready to face the man.
If the man had a gun, he was screwed.
Gus turned the corner and glanced around the tree.
And nearly had a heart attack.
The rock fell from Gus' grip as he fell back against the tree in relief.
"Gus!" exclaimed Henry, sighing in kind, only his more in exasperation. Henry lowered his own makeshift weapon—a thick tree branch. "Damn it, Gus, I thought you were—"
"Yeah," panted Gus. "So did I." Gus pushed himself off the tree. "Let's go find—" began Gus, but Henry suddenly clamped a hand over Gus' mouth and pulled the younger man to the ground. Gus' heart beat furiously, barely containing the yell from leaving his throat. Henry slowly released his hold on Gus, keeping low, and putting a finger to his lips, then pointed silently past the cluster of trees behind them.
Someone was walking toward them.
Gus' eyes widened.
The man was holding a gun.
The tan-skinned man with a permanently branded scowl that rivaled Lassiter's was scanning the trees with dark concentration. Cuts were evident on his cheeks and forearms where twigs had scraped him.
Gus slowly turned toward Henry as they crouched behind the tree. "That's him!" whispered Gus almost inaudibly.
Henry nodded, his eyes glued to the man. The killer didn't seem to notice them yet. He was walking around, weaving between the trees, swatting away branches angrily. His eyes were scanning the forest like a predator hunting its prey.
A metaphor that was far, far too close for comfort.
Gus slowly crept away from Henry. A shallow bush had grown beside the tree, providing visual cover between himself and the man walking about eight or ten feet away. Gus crept forward on his arms and chest, keeping low to the ground. That police academy exercise was finally coming in handy. Gus felt Henry grip his ankle, but Gus silently shook him off.
Gus had a plan.
Moving slowly across the soft ground beneath him, trying not to think about how hard it will be to get the grass stains out of these pants, Gus maneuvered himself behind a tree right across from the one he and Henry had taken cover behind.
Lifting himself cautiously back up off the ground, Gus slid his back up the trunk of the tree, sighing soundlessly in relief. Sneaking a look behind him, he realized the man was closer now, maybe only five or six feet away. He was so close Gus could smell the cheap aftershave off the man.
Pressing his back firmly against the tree, his heart pounding in his ears, Gus watched as the man took another step closer.
A frantic movement in the corner of Gus' eye had him turning his head back toward Henry, who was directly across from him, maybe four feet away. His eyes were wide and he was mouthing, What are you doing?!
Gus' eyes flicked back to the man, and he lifted a hand, jabbing his thumb at the killer, then making a swift punching motion.
To say the look Henry gave him was incredulous would have been an understatement.
Henry shook his head furiously.
A twig snapped under the man's boot, halting Henry and Gus' silent argument. He was going to walk through the brush, between the trees Henry and Gus took cover behind.
If they let that killer go, there was a chance he'd find Shawn and...
He felt sick at the thought.
Gus didn't care how stupidly dangerous it was.
He was going to protect his best friend.
Fearless Guster.
Gus took a breath, and held up three fingers to Henry.
Henry's eyes widened, shaking his head again.
Gus put a finger down.
Two.
Henry and Gus froze as another branch broke under the man's weight.
Henry hesitated, and Gus watched his mind work in his eyes, something so identical to watching Shawn during a case.
Seeming to realize, however grimly, that they needed to do something before that bastard found Shawn, Henry gave Gus a nod.
Gus steeled himself, lowering his finger.
One.
The man stepped between the trees at the exact moment Gus finished his wordless countdown, and both Gus and Henry lurched up and tackled the man to the ground.
They hit the man hard, and the three men crashed to the forest floor.
The killer cried out in surprise. Before he could get his bearings, Gus suddenly felt a hand grab him roughly by the scruff of his neck.
Gus was thrown against the trunk of the tree Henry had hidden behind, striking it chest-first, knocking the wind clear out of him. Gus fell to his side, fighting to suck in air. He suddenly heard the man grunt in pain, and panting, Gus pushed himself off the ground as Henry landed another punch across the man's face. Blood was streaming from the man's nose, and he staggered back.
Henry grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, hissing through his teeth, "WHERE IS MY SON?" When the man said nothing, Henry shook him. "Tell me, damn it!"
But the man suddenly moved, landing a swift blow across Henry's face with the pistol.
Henry fell back with a pained growl, stumbling and falling to the ground.
"Mr. Spencer!" cried Gus.
Gus' brows narrowing in a burst of anger, he rushed forward, but the gun was suddenly aiming at him.
Gus froze, staring down the muzzle of the weapon.
The man cocked the gun.
Gus shut his eyes.
And the gunshot rang out in the air.
Gus heard the cry of pain.
But he didn't feel the pain.
Shouldn't he feel pain if a bullet had lodged itself in his chest?
He cracked his eyes open.
The killer was lying back on the ground, clutching his now-bleeding arm, the gun on the ground, forgotten.
Gus and Henry, who had gotten back to his knees, both whipped around as Lassiter ran toward them through the trees.
The man on the ground, cursing and bleeding onto the grass, feebly reached for his gun.
"Freeze!" shouted Lassiter. "Do not move!"
Henry scooped up the dropped weapon and pulled himself to his feet, training the gun on the downed man next to Lassiter.
Lassiter looked between Henry and Gus. "Are you two okay?"
Henry nodded, and Gus saw a darkening bruise on the side of his face. Gus slowly stood, his back smarting where he'd hit the trunk of the tree. "Yeah," said Gus. "We're okay." He felt some tension leave him, staring down at the defeated bad guy.
Lassiter stared down at the man on the ground, his expression suddenly paling.
Henry and Gus noticed.
"What, Lassiter?" asked Henry, shifting his gaze between Lassiter and the man.
"This isn't him," muttered Lassiter. "This isn't the man I met."
"What?" demanded Henry and Gus in unison.
"There's three." said Lassiter in a low voice, shifting his gaze between Gus and Henry. "There's another kidnapper."
"Freeze! Do not move!"
Juliet froze mid-run, whipping her head in the direction of the distant shout from her partner.
Lassiter.
A relieved smile broke out on her face, releasing the vice of tension gripping her body.
Lassiter caught him.
Both kidnappers were taken down.
She felt a breath ease from her in between pants from running, a wash of relief that now she didn't have to worry about finding a gun-wielding killer amongst the sea of leaves and branches.
Now, she just needed to find Shawn.
And with the echo of Shawn's faded, worn voice in her mind from the phone call, her chest tightened.
She needed to find him.
Fast.
The forest was huge and dense, Juliet swatting away bugs and branches with every hasty footstep as she ran through the trees. "Shawn!" she called, grateful she could finally use her voice without worrying that a killer was listening. "Shawn!" she called again, voice strained from panting but she didn't stop. "Can you hear me?" she tried again.
Nothing but rustling nature responded.
Juliet tried to swallow down the fear that the heavy silence pressed down on her, trying to cling onto her steely cop armor to keep her focused.
However, she had a feeling that armor was already far too shattered to do much of anything.
"Shawn!" she tried again, voice breaking with fear.
Juliet ran through another set of branches, feeling them leave scrapes on her cheek, about to take another step when—
Juliet froze.
But it wasn't a trick of the light, nor a mirage dredged up from her desperate hope.
There was a figure collapsed on the ground up ahead.
"SHAWN!" cried Juliet.
Panic tearing at her heart, her eyes shooting wide, she ran.
Oh, god—
He was so still.
He was so still.
She pushed herself to run faster, fear rising sharply in her chest. "Shawn!" she cried, terrified—terrified—he was... was...
"Shawn," she choked out, her knees hitting the dirt at his side.
He's so still.
She's never seen him so still.
Her frantic eyes found his face, his head tilted to his shoulder, and suddenly her heart stopped.
His eyes were shut, his skin pale, but that wasn't what stole her breath.
Blood covered the left side of his head, having streamed steadily down from a nasty gash at his temple. She gasped, eyes only widening more as she traced its path down his face, saturating a river down his shirt—
There was so much blood.
There was so much blood.
She felt a sob choke in her throat.
"Something hit the windshield."
"Or someone."
"Shawn," she choked out, having known he was injured, having heard it in his voice over the phone—
"Son, you said you were hurt."
"Mhm."
"Where are you hurt?"
"M'head."
Cuts that looked like they were from broken glass littered his face, neck, and even his arms—was that chafing around his wrists?—the left side of his face coated with dried and fresh blood from the gash at his temple, and still there were heavy bruises underneath, as if he'd been hit—
Juliet couldn't help the broken sound that escaped her lips.
Blood saturated his shirt—was this all just from his head?!—there was a harsh tear in his jeans at his knee, and she could see wet crimson staining the denim, flecks of blood staining the grass beneath him like dew—
Juliet was frozen, paralyzed, horrified, her eyes raking over his broken, still frame.
Too still.
New fear suddenly overtook her.
"Oh, my god," she gasped out, panic suffocating her as pressed her shaking, trembling fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. His skin felt unnaturally cool against her touch, sending ice slithering down her spine.
Unwelcome tears brimmed in her eyes as she desperately tried to get her fumbling fingers to find an artery.
But, finally, Juliet's shaking, trembling fingers found what she was looking for.
A pulse beat back at her.
A breath of relief nearly enough to knock her unconscious slipped out when she finally found it, feeling the unsteady beat of his heart.
He was alive.
Shawn was alive.
A sound bubbled out of her chest that was too broken to be called a laugh.
But though alive, he was far from okay.
Her relief halted in its tracks.
Gently touching Shawn's cheek, in one of the only places he wasn't bruised, she said shakily, "Shawn?" Her thumb stroked his skin. She hasn't done this in days. It's felt like years. "Shawn… can you hear me?" she asked.
He didn't move, and made no indication that he'd heard nor felt her.
Her face crinkled, eyes burning with the threat of tears.
"Shawn," she tried again.
He remained still.
"Shawn?" she asked, hearing her voice crack as her breath caught in her chest. But his head remained tilted toward his shoulder, eyes shut, still unconscious.
God, she'd never seen him so still.
It was terrifying.
A tear rolled down her cheek. "Shawn, please, can you—can you hear me?" she asked, her voice somehow becoming quieter, only losing more strength. "Shawn," she choked out, louder, stronger, yet only sounding more and more broken.
When he still didn't respond to her voice, Juliet's trembling fingers shifted to his shoulder. She shook him gently. "Sha—"
Shawn suddenly shifted, a low moan escaping his lips.
Juliet gasped, startled. "Shawn?!" she asked desperately. His eyes were still shut, but his breathing pattern changed—shorter, quicker, and more shallow, as if from pain. Her brows creasing and her chest tightening at the sound of it, Juliet gently touched his face. "Shawn," she said, voice still wobbling a little. "Open your eyes, can—can you do that for me?" she said breathlessly.
Juliet watched the muscles in Shawn's face tighten as he tried to comply. He cracked his eyes open, seeming utterly disoriented. He blinked a few times, staring in her direction, but like he wasn't actually seeing her.
When Shawn finally did see her, his eyes opened wider, his features screwed up in complete confusion. "J—Jules…?" he croaked, his voice hoarse.
Juliet smiled at the sound of his voice, speaking his nickname for her that she hadn't heard in days, unable to help another tear from spilling down her cheek. He was alive. He was awake. "Shawn, thank god," she whispered, her fingers finding his cheek again, unable to keep herself from it.
Shawn smiled too, strained though it was, as if in response to her touch. He shifted again, as if to sit up, then froze mid-movement, face twisting in a grimace with a hiss.
"Shawn?!" breathed Juliet immediately, watching helplessly as the pain laced through his features. Worry creased her face, suddenly wondering about injuries she couldn't see.
He blinked a few times, seeming to be caught between reality and whatever dazed state his concussion had left him in. Shawn looked at her, suddenly concerned. "Why're... why're you… crying?" he asked, his voice so small it nearly broke her heart.
"I'm not," she lied quickly, hastily wiping the tears away. She placed her hand back on his cheek, her eyes traitorously following the pattern of bruises where he'd been hit. Bastards, she thought, blind anger coursing through her veins. "Shawn, you're safe now," she told him, as though trying to convince herself more than him. "I'm going to get you out of here." she promised firmly. "You're going to be fine."
Even if all of those words shook.
She glanced behind her, hoping to see where she could find a way back to the apartment building. But everything looked identical around her.
Trees.
Branches.
Dirt.
"Carlton!" she called out loudly. She waited, listening intently, but she didn't get a reply. The leaves shifted quietly in the breeze. She was surrounded by silence.
How far had she wandered?
Juliet tried again, louder, "CARLTON! I found him!"
Nothing but silence responded.
Her shaking fingers pulled out her phone, but she inwardly groaned.
No Signal.
She was going to have to get Shawn out of here herself.
Juliet turned back to Shawn, who'd shut his eyes again. His head had fallen back toward his shoulder.
Juliet's heart spiked.
"No, no, no, Shawn," she said quickly, resisting the urge to shake him again. "Stay with me!"
Shawn snapped his eyes open at her order. He tilted his head back toward her, his eyes seeming slightly clearer than they had been when he'd woken the first time, but still much too unfocused. His pupils were far more dilated than they should be. He looked at her skeptically, as if seeing her for the first time. "J-Jules?"
"Shawn," she said apprehensively, worry paralyzingly her. Did he already forget waking up?
"W-where…?" he trailed off, his eyes weakly searching his surroundings.
"We're in a forest, Shawn," she explained, now even more fearful of his concussion. "Behind the apartment building where you were held. Do you remember the apartment building, Shawn?"
His brows furrowed, like he either couldn't remember the answer to the question or couldn't understand what he was being asked.
"Shawn, look at me," she said instead, now even more scared. She waited for his eyes to find her, like it took several seconds for him to process her words. His mind seemed frighteningly two or three steps behind. With his eyes on her, Juliet asked, "How many of me do you see?"
Shawn's face screwed up in confusion. "When… when'd you get here?" he whispered.
Her heart picked up speed, pounding in her head. It was as if he hadn't even heard what she asked. Or, he'd already forgotten. "Shawn," she said slowly, voice shaking, her hand back on his face to try to hold his attention, she repeated, "Just… just tell me how many of me you see."
Shawn fought to keep his gaze on her like he was fighting the urge to close his eyes. Slowly, he slurred, "I… dunno…" He squinted at her. "'s… blurry," he said, taking a shallow breath and shutting his eyes. When he opened them, he looked at her again, squinting in surprised confusion. "When'd you get here?"
Juliet took a shuddering breath. His lapse in memory terrified her. And with impaired vision, it would be even harder to get Shawn out of the forest on her own. "I don't know, Shawn," she said, answering his question. "Just… just a few minutes ago." She looked around again, as if Lassiter would miraculously emerge from the trees.
"'m sorry," said Shawn suddenly, his eyes drifting shut again.
"No," said Juliet quickly when she saw them close. His eyes slowly opened. "Shawn, you can't fall asleep." She had to keep him talking. "What are you sorry about?" she asked absently, eyes scanning the forest. From now on, she was bringing a flare everywhere she goes.
Shawn mumbled something so quietly that it took Juliet a moment to make out what he said.
Lying.
Juliet froze, her chest tightening. With Shawn in danger, she'd pushed everything that happened between them as far away as possible. His life was more important than what happened between them. She'll... process everything later.
After they get him safely out of here.
"Shawn, it's—" she said, ready to say okay, but quickly stopped herself. She hadn't exactly forgiven him for what happened. She hadn't exactly… processed anything yet. Asking him for space was supposed to have brought her clarity, but all it seemed to bring was more pain.
With a frustrated sigh, she shoved the emotions away.
Juliet shook her head and finished, "—it's not important right now. We need to get you out of here."
"'m really… tired," he slurred, his eyes falling shut again.
"Stay with me!" she repeated sharply, her hand back on his cheek, cupping his face. His eyes opened again at her touch. Juliet scanned the forest. The light was continuing to fade. She needed to get him out of here. "Shawn," she said gently, putting a hand over his. She looked around. "Do you know how to get out of here?"
If he hadn't been concussed, Juliet would simply just expect Shawn to have a trick up his sleeve in a situation like this. He just seemed to know things about everything. She'd have expected to see his brows knead in concentration, his gaze sweep across the trees, and his hand rise to his temple as a vision revealed itself to him.
But he's never had visions.
He wasn't psychic.
He was as normal, as regular, as human as she was.
The realization—the knowledge—that he wasn't actually psychic, above the pain of the lie, was a crashing confusion of how the hell does he know everything?
And she suddenly found herself scared. Shawn made her feel safe, made her feel like anything she missed he'd find, but looking at him now, struggling to simply stay awake, she realized she was going to be alone in this.
How can you miss someone this much, and be inches away?
But Shawn's brows furrowed with the difficulty of trying to think, and Juliet watched him slowly turn his head, his eyes sluggishly scanning the area. She watched his gaze dart around, slower than she's seen him do it before—something she'd thought was a psychic thing—and if it wasn't that, what was he always doing?—but he suddenly winced, eyes screwing shut, like thinking hurt.
"Shawn?!" she asked reflexively.
He swallowed, then said, "M-Might." He turned his head back toward her, still unable to release the wince. "W-was a boy scout," he whispered, "for a few—few days."
A ghost of a smile crossed Juliet's face, hearing him sound a little more coherent, a little more with her. "Only a few days?" she asked, glad to see that he was somewhat lucid.
"Got…kicked out," he said, almost remorsefully. "Acc'dent'ly… set G-Gus' tent.. on fire."
Despite herself, Juliet's eyebrows shot up. "You what?"
"Gus—Gus said he… was cold."
Juliet shook her head, both in incredulity and relief. He was already sounding more like himself, minus the slurring. She felt a sudden tremor run through Shawn's body, and realized he must be getting cold, too. She took a breath. They had to move now; trying to get him out of here in the dark would be impossible. "I'm going to help you up, okay?"
Juliet slipped an arm under Shawn's shoulders, slowly beginning to lift him up.
What she wasn't ready for, however, was for him to cry out.
Juliet froze, her heart lodging in her throat as Shawn cried out from the movement.
"Shawn?!" she gasped.
She'd lied him back down immediately, but the damage was done; his eyes screwed shut, breathing harsh, short, pained breaths through clenched teeth. His arms instinctively had shot out to wrap around his midsection, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt as if to alleviate pain, so hard his knuckles were white.
"Shawn?!" she repeated breathlessly, eyes wide.
His breaths shallow pants, his face tight in a harsh grimace, he hissed out, "Shit," his voice cutting off into a groan.
"Shawn!" she exclaimed breathlessly, trembling fingers hovering over him, afraid to touch him. "What's wrong? Are you okay?!"
But his eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice. Still panting, his eyes snapped toward her. They widened. "Jules?" he breathed.
God, not again.
"Yes, Shawn," she said, only more afraid now, her eyes wide. "Did... did you forget waking up again?"
Shawn stared at her for a moment, then something seemed to dawn on him, and he briefly shut his eyes. "No," he said, and Juliet's brows rose sharply at how much more himself he suddenly sounded.
The pain must have woken him up.
"Think I..." he said between pants, "was just... a little stoned there... for a second," he gasped out.
Juliet couldn't help the broken laugh that sounded far too much like a choked sob. Relief coursed through her at how much more with it he was, but halted when he winced again, a gasp escaping him as he rode the pain. "Shawn, are you okay?" she asked quickly.
"Feel like..." he said, cracking his eyes back open. "Was hit by a truck." He paused, blinking at his own words before shutting his eyes tight again. "Accurate." he forced out. He took another shuddering breath, fingers only tightening more around his shirt. "Damn," he hissed through his teeth.
Feeling utterly useless, Juliet's trembling fingers rested gently over his forearm, helpless against the pain he was suffering. The image of the wrecked cab resurfaced in her mind, and her face fell, her heart skipping. With the echo of his pain from a few minutes ago when she tried to move him, she found her gaze back on his form. Which... was shaking now, his fingers still clinging to his shirt hard enough they shook.
"Shawn," she said shakily, "where does it hurt?"
She still had to get him to safety; it'd be easier if she knows where not to touch him.
But, god, it looked like that was everywhere.
He took another shallow breath, not opening his eyes to say, "The list of places... I don't," he said shallowly, "would pr-probably be... shorter," he said with difficulty, voice cutting into a soft groan that he caught between his teeth.
Her chest tightened at the sound of his pain, her fingers finding his cheek again, but she didn't even think he could feel her touch past the pain making him tremble.
But his eyes cracked back open, and he blinked, however she could tell he still couldn't see straight, blinking too many times, his pupils never finding something to fix on. He shut them again, like it exhausted him merely to try. "Ribs," he said finally. "Think I... broke some," he managed. "Or... all of them," he considered with a wince.
Juliet's gaze fell to his arms crossing over his midsection. Ribs would make sense.
Her heart twisted.
"Head. Shoulder," said Shawn, eyes still shut, like it was easier to think that way. Shoulder? With a spark of guilt, she realized she'd shaken him awake without realizing his shoulder was injured. Her chest hurt. "Kn-Knee," Shawn went on. His eyes opened with a hint of sudden annoyance. "Great," he muttered, closing them again. "I'm like... the song."
It took her a moment to realize he was referring to the nursery rhyme.
Despite herself, she fought the urge to shake her head with incredulity.
Juliet's eyes found his knee again, where she'd seen the blood. She took a closer look, but it didn't look broken, and the bleeding was minimal. It looked... fresh.
"What happened to your knee?" she found herself asking, her voice small.
It took him a moment to respond, his eyes blinking open again, and she watched him attempt to think. But after a few seconds, he sighed shortly, shutting his eyes again. "Can't... re-remember," he said tightly, but with a sort of frustration Juliet couldn't place. "Which..." he went on in a mutter, almost to himself, "is new for me." Before Juliet could decipher what that meant, his face was pulled into more concentration, and Juliet didn't think she'd ever seen someone think so hard. She lifted her hand back to his face, about to tell him not to stress himself when he said, "Think I... fell," said Shawn, eyes cracking back open with what looked like a hint of understanding. "Down some—some stairs," he finished, words beginning to slur again, like the thinking only served to exhaust him more. "Lots of stairs," he groaned, eyes screwing shut again.
Juliet felt her eyes burn.
"Shawn," she said, voice wobbling a little again, his pain tearing at her heart. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay? I promise." Her thumb absently stroked his cheek with her words, trying to give him what little comfort she could. "But... we're going to have to move," she said reluctantly. "And then you can rest, okay?" Her voice shook.
His eyes cracked open, face still drawn into a tight wince. But he let out a shallow breath, as if bracing himself. "Yeah," he said tightly.
He didn't try to stop her as she slowly slipped her hands behind his shoulders—this time knowing to be more mindful of his right shoulder and his ribs—but she watched his face tighten and felt his body tense as they moved, inch by inch off the ground.
Halfway up, a grunt slipped out between clenched teeth, his eyes screwed shut, his breathing becoming harsh pants again.
"Shawn?" she asked, freezing her movements.
"Fine," he bit out, and reluctantly, Juliet continued helping him up, every broken, pained sound slipping out through his teeth cutting straight into her heart.
He was panting hard by the time he was sitting upright. Juliet quickly helped him to lean against the trunk of a tree for a breather. Shawn breathed hard, keeping his eyes firmly shut. His fist was twisted in his shirt only harder, and he seemed to be spending all of his energy just trying to keep from vocalizing his pain.
"Shawn?" asked Juliet, realizing tears were back in her eyes, burning them.
"M'head's… killing me," he whispered, out of breath.
Juliet's heart ached.
"I know, Shawn," said Juliet quietly, her face crumpling with the words. She kept a hold on him, feeling him starting to lean to the side. Juliet quickly kept him from falling, realizing just how much his sense of balance was off. "Are you dizzy?" she asked.
It took Shawn a moment to answer, biting out the word, "Yes." A groan of either pain or frustration slipped out. "Shit."
Exhaustion made it seem like gravity was working double-time on him. He looked so tired. God, he looked so tired.
Shawn's eyes were still screwed shut, his head tilted back on the tree, his body wracked with shakes, like it was either involuntary, from the pain, or his own attempt to keep himself from falling over. His breaths were still pinched, his face even whiter than it was, contrasting sharply with the bruises and blood on his face.
God, he looked horrible.
He looked horrible.
She hardly even realized another tear was falling down her cheek.
Somewhere beyond the ache in her chest was the fear for him, the fact that it was going to be dark soon. She had to move him. She had to get him out of here and to a paramedic.
Juliet watched him struggle to manage the pain of his own breathing, feeling only more and more doubt that she was going to be able to get him out of here on her own.
He couldn't even sit up on his own, still leaning heavily to the left, her hands the only things keeping him from falling.
But... they didn't exactly have a choice.
Swallowing hard, hating the words even as they left her lips, Juliet said, "I know you're hurting, Shawn..." It was past hurting. He was in agony. Her eyes burned hotter. "But we have to get you help," she said. "It's going to be dark soon. Do..." The words fought her. She didn't want to ask him. She didn't want to cause him any more pain. Reluctantly, she asked, "Do you think you can stand?"
It took him a moment to open his eyes. She could tell he'd heard her, because at her words, he'd tensed, like the very thought of moving was agony. He looked at her, the look in his eyes pure pain, and Juliet felt her heart tear in half. His eyes, though, flicked away from her for a moment, like he was seriously asking himself that question. When they found her again, he said unevenly, "Might..." His eyes on her, a trace of vulnerability, a slip of his own fear, he finished, quieter, "Might n-need... help," he admitted, words slurring again, eyes screwing shut.
Juliet's heart squeezed, and she tightened her hold on him reassuringly. "I'm here," she said, a little broken smile at her lips. "We'll stand together."
He looked at her, naked fear in his eyes at the very thought of moving, and Juliet didn't think her heart could shatter more than it did last week at Lassiter's wedding. She'd spent the past week wishing for his honesty. But now, it scared her to death.
Shawn gave her a minute nod, a barely-noticeable movement of his head in agreement, though even that small movement made him screw his eyes shut again, and Juliet felt him sway.
"I've got you, Shawn," she said firmly. Swallowing hard, wondering how the hell to get him up without causing him agonizing pain, she bit her lip.
"Not gonna... matter."
Juliet looked up at him sharply, seeing his tired, pain-filled gaze on her, realizing he was answering the question in her thoughts.
It's not going to matter how she does it.
It's going to hurt him no matter what.
For the millionth time in a week, she wondered how he could possibly not be psychic.
But giving him her own nod, both of them bracing themselves—she with a tight chest, he with a tight grimace—she slipped her hands under his arms, and she lifted him up.
"Agh—!" cried Shawn, eyes screwing shut, teeth snapping together to turn the cry into a groan. Juliet froze, heart lodged in her throat, but he didn't stop. He feebly tried to get his good leg under him, and a tear burning down her cheek, Juliet kept lifting him, pulling him upright. Another groan tore from his chest, and Juliet felt a choked sob escape her, but Shawn finally managed to get a foot under him, helping her with his ascent.
They were halfway up when she heard a "Dammit—" and his weight listed to the left, making her stumble to catch him, only making him cry out again.
His balance.
The concussion was screwing too much with his balance. Even if they could get him on his feet, there was no way she could keep him there.
Instead of trying, Juliet helped lower him back to the ground, resting him back against the tree, her chest clenching at the horrible pained sounds escaping his clenched teeth. He breathed harshly, eyes shut tight. Another groan slipped out. "Shit," he hissed brokenly.
Juliet watched him with burning eyes, every pained sound from him breaking her heart only further. "It's okay," she whispered, finding his hand and squeezing it. "It's okay, Shawn, just breathe... just breathe, it's okay," she whispered.
She waited as he caught his breath, riding the waves of pain, a heaviness settling in her chest.
She wasn't going to be able to get him out of her own her own.
"S-Sorry," gasped Shawn, cracking his eyes back open. "Damn... con...cussion," he said through pants.
"I know," she said softly, squeezing his hand more. "I know. It's okay, Shawn." She smiled a little, an attempt at giving him sureness she didn't feel. "We'll... we'll just wait for someone to find us. Lassiter and the others are bound to be looking for us." She smiled a little more, attempting to give herself comfort in the thought. Between Lassiter, Henry, Gus, the Chief and the dozen officers around, someone was bound to find them.
When he could open his eyes, Shawn looked at her, looking even more exhausted. "Where's… L'ssie?" he slurred, blinking heavy.
"Carlton's somewhere around here," said Juliet, the utmost faith in her partner to find her. "He just apprehended the men who took you. Both of them are in custody," she said, feeling relief in that fact alone, hoping it would bring some to Shawn as well.
Shawn's eyes suddenly flashed. "Both?" he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.
Juliet hesitated at the sudden shift in his tone. "Yeah, the two men who kidnapped you," she said slowly. "We've got them—"
"There's three, Jules," said Shawn sharply. "There's—"
"Three."
Both Shawn and Juliet jumped at the voice behind them. Juliet's heart jumped into her throat as she watched a man emerge from the trees beside them.
And it wasn't Lassiter.