Chapter 20

Shawn felt himself waking up and wondered if he really wanted to. He'd gotten so sick and had felt so horrible that going back to the hospital hadn't even helped. When they'd arrived, they'd taken Gus away and had rushed him to a room where they'd poked and prodded and tested him until he'd wanted to scream. He had a vague idea that he actually had screamed at least once, but his brain had been short-circuiting by that point and he wasn't entirely sure what had been real. They'd tried various medicines and procedures and had babbled med-speak around him until he'd become convinced he'd been abducted by aliens. He'd grown more and more agitated and had tried asking about his father and Gus and even Lassie, but they'd brushed off his questions which had only wound him up more. They'd finally given him something to sleep, but he could tell the doctors and nurses were getting edgy, unsure of how to stop his bleeding. He'd wondered if he was even going to wake up. He opened his eyes and saw Juliet.

"Oh crap, I died," he said.

"What?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Did I die? Wait, you're not dead. Why are you here?"

"They let me come to visit you," she said with a faint smile. She was sitting in a wheelchair that had been parked at the side of his bed. She looked tired and there was a tension around her eyes that made him think she had a massive headache, but she was the best thing in the world he could've hoped to wake up to.

"That's so awesome," he said, and he couldn't even feel embarrassed at how lame it sounded. Someone on the other side of the bed cleared his throat and Shawn turned to find Gus lying on the small couch in the room with his foot in a cast and propped up on cushions. It was still dark outside, so he hadn't slept that long. "Gus! Even more awesome! Your shoe needs to go on a diet, though, man. That's ridiculous."

"I hear that," said Gus with a grimace but also with a twinkle in his eye as he met Shawn's look.

"Are you feeling any better?" asked Juliet. "They just gave you the antivenom a little while ago. I wasn't sure it would work so fast."

"They what?"

"Your father found some of the antidote. They just got back with it, and the doctor gave you some," said Juliet. She tried to smile again, but something held it at bay.

Shawn realized that she looked sad and he had a sudden flash of anxiety. "Is Dad okay? Where was he? Was he with Lassie?"

"They went to some guy's place out in the desert. I don't really understand everything they've been trying to tell me," said Juliet with a look of apology. She glanced over at Gus and Shawn turned to his friend.

"Your dad and Lassie found Sinclair's place. They brought the antidotes back," confirmed Gus. He also had a hesitant expression.

"They went alone?"

"Yeah," said Gus, giving Shawn an ironic look.

"But they're both okay?" prompted Shawn, feeling a twist in his stomach.

"Your dad was shot in the arm, but he's going to be fine," said Gus. "Lassie got beat up pretty bad and he was stung by some badass scorpions. They're still working on him. They just got in less than an hour ago, by MedEvac helicopter."

"Holy crap!" said Shawn as the news sank in and he realized what his father and Lassie had done. They'd gone off after Sinclair by themselves. He really was his father's son, he thought wryly as he considered his own rash antics. And his father had pulled Lassie along for the ride, something Shawn had done himself, numerous times. "Was Sinclair there?"

Gus nodded. "He's dead."

Shawn wondered for a moment how it had happened, but he was shocked enough for now. He could learn the details later. He looked at Juliet and saw how her eyes had grown bright. He reached across with his left hand and touched her cheek. "Lassie will be fine," he said, knowing that he had even less of a clue than his friends if that was true but hoping that he was right. "Of course he will."

She reached up and held his hand between her own for a moment and nodded. "I know. I'm just glad you're looking so much better already."

He let his head fall back and sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. The news about his father and everything else he'd missed was dragging him down as the small burst of energy Juliet had given him faded. "Back atcha," he mumbled. He wanted to see his dad, and he hoped Lassie was going to be okay. He wanted to talk about what had happened and get all of the details and tell his dad what he'd gone through. "Let me know when my dad comes." He closed his eyes, intending for it to only be for a moment, but the moment went on for a while.

OoOoOoO

Henry felt like he would fall asleep sitting up if he closed his eyes, so he made sure to keep them open. He couldn't sleep yet. The nurse was finishing up with his arm. She had cleaned the wound and bandaged it and was fitting him with a sling. She'd also given him some pain medicine that wasn't helping him feel any more awake. He had to see Shawn, though. They'd told him they were going to administer the antivenom right away, but he still needed to see his son. He had the sense that Shawn had gotten much worse while they were gone, not to mention the whole ordeal of being held hostage in Morton Eisener's house. He couldn't imagine why they'd gone there, although, he couldn't say he was totally surprised that they'd done something like that. And he couldn't really throw stones considering what he'd done himself.

When the nurse finished and set him free, he shrugged into his bloody Hawaiian shirt, refusing her offer of the ridiculous hospital gown. He walked through the emergency department, heading for the elevators. As he neared the main entrance, he noticed two police officers escorting an old man with a walker, and he jerked to a halt, staring. The old man saw him in the same instant. They glared at each other for a few moments. Henry tried to think of something to say other than "you stupid, hateful bastard," but those were the only words he could summon, and he figured the guy was getting the message from his expression anyway. He was getting the old creep's message of pure hatred in return. He narrowed his eyes, wondering how the man's poison had managed to become directed at him and Shawn, but he'd been a cop long enough to know that things like that couldn't be explained. People committed the most spiteful and destructive acts sometimes, and there was no figuring them out. The only thing to do was catch them and put them away so they couldn't do it again. He shifted his gaze to the two officers who were glancing between him and the perp, looking mildly confused. He nodded at them.

"Good work, guys," he said.

"Thanks, Mr. Spencer," said Officer Baker. "And the same to you, about that Sinclair guy. Glad to see you're okay."

Henry grimaced at the mention of the hitman. He was pushing aside his need to deal with the fact that he'd taken a man's life. His son's health came first. His own demons would have to wait. The old man started to grumble something, but Henry was done caring about him. He waved and turned back to the elevators as the officers prodded Morton towards the door. When he reached Shawn's floor and approached his room, he saw a nurse pushing Juliet O'Hara in a wheelchair.

"Detective!" he said with a smile. "You look great!"

"Thanks, Mr. Spencer," said Juliet with a small smile in return. "I'm sorry about your arm."

Henry knew she looked tired and haggard as well, but considering what she'd been through, she really did look good. "Oh, yeah, it's nothing really," he said shrugging automatically and then wincing at the pain of the movement.

"How's' Carlton?" asked Juliet, her concern suddenly bright in her eyes.

"He, uh, had some rough moments," said Henry, thinking about how the detective nearly stopped breathing, both at Sinclair's place and then once more in the ambulance that had met them on the road. It had driven them towards Santa Barbara until they'd been able to rendezvous with the MedEvac helicopter. The paramedics had stabilized him, though, and with some meds and intravenous fluids he'd been looking much better by the time they'd landed in Santa Barbara. He'd also seemed delirious at one point in the car, but Henry didn't think anyone needed to know about that. "I think he's going to be fine."

She sighed and nodded. The nurse gave him a look and he said a quick goodbye. She obviously needed to get back to her bed and rest. Henry started to reach for the door to Shawn's room when it opened to reveal Gus in a cast and holding crutches.

"Mr. Spencer!" said Gus with a smile. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Same here!" said Henry, giving Gus a quick hug. "What happened to your foot?"

Gus grimaced as he moved back to let Henry into the room. "I got shot," he said, looking abashed, like he was a kid admitting to breaking a window or something.

"Oh, well, I did too," said Henry as he clapped Gus on the shoulder. "We lived to tell about it, though, right?" He turned to the bed, but he saw that Shawn was sleeping. "How's he doing?"

"He's better," said Gus. His tone implied that he'd gotten pretty bad. "He said he wanted to see you."

"Well, he needs his rest," said Henry as he gazed at his son. "I'll sit with him. Are you going home?"

"Yeah, I was just going to go sleep a little and get some fresh clothes."

"I should do that too. I'll sit with him a while, though," said Henry with his eyes still glued to his son. He didn't see Gus's nod and knowing look.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Spencer. I'm glad you're okay."

"Same here, Gus," said Henry. He gave Gus a warm look and put his hand on his shoulder again. "And thank you."

Gus smiled and nodded, then he started to hobble out of the room on his crutches as Henry held the door. Henry was about to ask how he was getting home when he noticed Buzz coming up the hallway and giving Gus a wave. He closed the door and turned back to the bed to find Shawn looking at him.

"Dad."

"Shawn."

"Are you okay?" asked Shawn quietly.

"Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah."

Henry wondered at how he could suddenly feel uncomfortable. He sighed as whatever energy had been keeping him up seemed to drain away all at once. He walked over and started to pull a chair up beside the bed.

"You look tired," said Shawn.

"I am."

"Are you okay?" Shawn asked again.

Henry paused as he'd just started to sit down, and he met Shawn's gaze. They looked at each other for a few moments. Henry could read all of the fear and worry and pain in his son's eyes, and something told him Shawn could see the same things in his. Finally, he just nodded and smiled crookedly. "Yeah. I'm okay now, kid," he said. "And so are you." Then he leaned over and gave his son a hug.

OoOoOoO

Lassiter was dreaming. For a while, he'd been blissfully unaware of anything, but now he was surfacing, and he apparently had to go through the disturbing images again to do it. Mostly, he kept seeing Sinclair. He relived the explosion in the lot, and then the fight in the desert. Not much of a fight, really. He pretty much just got beat to a pulp by the guy. He twisted in discomfort and felt pain flare in his arm and ribs. Manageable pain, at least. He thought he heard voices, but the images kept holding him down. Sinclair swinging the shovel. The scuttling creatures in the aquariums. Sinclair aiming his finger-gun at him in the lot. He'd tried to chase him, but no one else had seen him that day. He was like a ghost. He was a ghost who bled, though. He saw his body in the pool of blood on the floor. He was dead, right? He was surely dead. He saw him grinning again, hungry for his pain, watching as the scorpion poison started to take his breath away forever. But he'd seen him lying in the pool of blood. He was dead. The man was a ghost.

Lassiter opened his eyes and found Juliet looking at him with furrowed brows. All thoughts of Sinclair were wiped from his mind. He blinked. "Am I alive?" he asked, feeling like this couldn't be reality.

"Why does everyone keep saying that when they see me?" she asked as her forehead smoothed out and her eyes crinkled into a smile. "And yes, you are alive, partner."

He realized he was in the hospital, but he was still surprised to find her at his side. "What are you doing here?"

"They're letting me visit you guys sometimes," she said as she tilted her head to indicate something behind her.

He flicked his gaze over her shoulder and saw another bed in the room, but it was empty. He looked back at her, feeling confused, but also feeling a sudden bloom of elation. "Oh my god, it's so good to see you," he said as he smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm doing good, Carlton. It's good to see you too. You had us worried for a little while," she said.

He realized she was sitting in a wheelchair, and he also noticed how tired she looked. "Are you sure you should be here like this? Maybe you should go back to your room. You shouldn't push yourself too hard."

She laughed and shook her head. "You're one to talk," she admonished. "I'm pretty sure you're in worse shape than me right now. You know, I can actually remember telling you to be careful, and here you go and take on a professional hitman with just a civilian as a partner."

He grimaced. "Not the best plan, was it?" He looked around the room, taking note of a couch that seemed like it had been slept on. Who would've been sleeping in the room? Surely not Juliet. He also noticed that it was bright daylight outside. "How long have I been here?"

"Twelve hours, or so. They brought you in around 9PM last night, just about an hour after Shawn." Her look grew misty and she put her hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Carlton, I'm just glad you're okay. And you ARE going to be okay. There was some antivenom for those scorpions in the case Henry found," she said. "Still. You cut that a little too close."

He didn't know what she meant about them bringing in Shawn, but he let it slide and just nodded. "I know," he said. Then he sighed. "So how are you really? Are you feeling better?"

"I am. Everything else has been pretty fuzzy until recently. And I can't remember anything about what happened at that empty lot. But the headaches are getting better, and I'm starting to fill in the gaps."

"Good," he said.

The door to the room opened and a nurse wheeled Shawn into the room with Gus in tow, hobbling along on crutches. Lassiter's brow furrowed. He realized Gus had a walking cast on his foot as he made his way across the room and settled onto the couch with a pained sigh. Lassiter's frown deepened as he noticed how familiar Gus seemed to be with the couch and the way the cushions were set up. He turned his head, and the suspicions that had been bubbling up were confirmed when he saw the nurse helping Shawn into the other bed.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" he gasped.

Juliet smirked and stifled an obvious giggle.

"Lassiestiltskin!" said Shawn. "You're back! I suppose this means I have to stop lobbing spitballs at you."

"No, seriously," said Lassiter with a desperate look at Juliet. "They're kidding, right?"

"Dude, we're the freaky-exotic-venom-victim wing of the hospital now," said Shawn. "Pretty sure you're stuck with me."

He groaned and flopped back into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. "Shoot me now," he groused.

"I wouldn't recommend it," said Gus grimly.

Lassiter turned his head and squinted at him. "Really?"

Gus nodded. "Right through the foot," he said.

"Ouch."

"You got that right."

"Five scorpion stings," said Lassiter.

"And two broken ribs, three cracked, and a bruised scapula," added Juliet.

"Really?" asked Lassiter. No wonder he felt like he'd been walked over by the Thanksgiving Day parade. She pursed her lips and nodded.

"Ouch," said Gus.

"No shit," said Lassiter.

"I puked blood!" said Shawn as he sat up and waved his arms. The right one was still wrapped up.

"Eww!" exclaimed Gus and Juliet and Lassiter simultaneously.

Henry opened the door and walked in with a box of take-out coffee and a big white bag both gripped precariously in his right hand. His left arm was in a sling. He looked tired, but he had on a fresh change of clothes.

"Father of mine!" said Shawn fondly. "You smuggled in goodies! I knew you'd pick up some of my better habits someday."

Henry's initial look of irritation melted into a smile. "How was your treatment?"

"Awesome. I was telling Gus we should market this baby and open up dialysis bars all over, you know, like those oxygen bars?"

Henry rolled his eyes and then looked at Lassiter.

"Hey! Good to see you awake, detective," he said warmly.

"Thanks, Henry," said Lassiter, feeling a little warm and fuzzy on the inside, himself, despite the fact that he was sharing a room with Shawn. "How's the arm?"

"Fine, just a scratch."

"Jeez, dad, you totally lose in the let's-compare-injuries game," said Shawn.

Henry grimaced. "I don't want to play any games."

Lassiter met his gaze and nodded as a look of understanding passed between them. For a while they all shared the coffee and donuts and compared stories, filling each other in on their separate adventures while helping Juliet put all of the pieces together. Lassiter asked Henry what had happened when they'd left Sinclair's place, because his memories were too disjointed to make sense. Henry described how they'd reached the main road when Sinclair's whole place had exploded behind them. Lassiter blinked at him in shock.

"Wait, how'd that happen?"

Henry grimaced. "I don't know. The one room was rigged, but I guess maybe he had the whole place on a timer too?" he said, then he shrugged, looking vaguely disturbed.

Lassiter felt exceedingly disturbed. "Did they find his body?"

Henry nodded as he gazed down at his coffee cup. "They found remains, burned so bad they were barely recognizable as human. But, yeah."

He went on to describe how some of the local authorities caught up to them at that point and transferred them to an ambulance. He'd called Chief Vick then and had explained the situation with the antivenoms. She'd summoned a MedEvac helicopter to pick them up, explaining to Henry what had happened with Shawn and what shape he was in. The ambulance drove towards Santa Barbara until the helicopter was able to meet it partway, then they'd flown the rest of the way to the city.

"Dude! Why didn't I get a ride in a helicopter?" groused Shawn.

"You were ten minutes from the hospital," said Gus.

"But it would've been, like, 3 minutes by helicopter!"

Lassiter listened to their silly arguing, not really hearing it as he felt suddenly exhausted. He thought he'd feel better about hearing confirmation of Sinclair's death, but he was just worn out and vaguely haunted.

"Carlton, are you tired?" asked Juliet quietly.

"No. Well, maybe," he said. Then he looked at her and noticed how haggard she seemed. "Are you? Maybe you should go back to your room."

"Yeah," she said with reluctance. "I will soon."

"Thanks for coming to see me," he said with a sincere look.

"Thank you, too. The nurses told me how you were sleeping in my room all of those nights."

He just gave her a crooked smile and shrugged. "That's what partners do."

OoOoOoO

Chief Vick knocked on the door and walked into the room after hearing a cacophony of voices inviting her inside. She stepped in and then stood for a moment, surveying the scene. It was quite a scene. Guster was on the couch with his boot-cast up on cushions. Lassiter and Shawn were in their beds, both of them with thickly wrapped right arms and both looking pale and very much the worse for wear. O'Hara was in a wheelchair between the two beds appearing overtired but reluctant to leave. And Henry was sitting in a chair with his left arm in a sling and a large cup of coffee in his right hand. She shook her head faintly and gave them all a wry smile.

"It's good to see you all," she said. "I'm sorry it has to be in the hospital."

She went on to deliver news that she knew they would all love to hear. Morton Eisener was going to stay in jail until his trial because the FBI had frozen all of his funds due to his mob connections. Charlotte Rey had been found and had agreed to return to Santa Barbara, and Maxwell Francis had come forward and offered to testify against his own father in the hopes of getting a deal on his charges. And to top it off, she told them all with a smile about how an old woman at the Shady Glen nursing home had figured out what Hammond was doing, swindling her fellow residents out of their money in the fake insurance scam. When he'd approached her, she'd been prepared and had recorded his pitch to her with her iPhone. She'd then emailed the video to the SBPD, the D.A.'s office and the local news outlets as well as posting it on YouTube. They'd arrested Hammond that morning.

OoOoOoO

Two weeks later, Shawn was sitting on his dad's porch watching the sunset. Henry came out of the house carrying two more beers. They'd had dinner with Gus who had hobbled off afterward to plan his route for the next day. He'd been working again, but he complained about the cast that was still going to be on his foot for another couple of weeks. He'd taken to griping about how Shawn was back to normal and he was still stuck with a broken foot. Shawn had been trying to appease his friend by continuing the daily churro habit and extending it until the cast was off. He was feeling guilty for the danger he'd put him in by going to Morton's house. In fact, he was still feeling guilty about everyone else getting hurt as well. Time was mending the wounds and easing the sting of it all, and it helped that all of the bad guys were either dead or in jail, but he felt more acutely than normal that he'd stepped over the line.

"Thanks, dad," said Shawn, and for a moment he meant for more than just the dinner and beer.

Henry seemed to catch the extra weight in Shawn's tone and nodded as he sat down. "You're welcome, Shawn," he said. They sat in silence for a moment as the sun sank below the horizon. "How's Juliet?"

"She's doing good," said Shawn. "She's back on desk duty now, and she should be fully reinstated next week."

"That's great. So, is Lassiter back to his old self?"

"Oh he never left," smirked Shawn, but then his brow furrowed. "Actually, I noticed a file on Sinclair he's trying to hide in one of his desk drawers. When I asked about it, he just got mad. I'm not sure what to make of that."

Henry's brow furrowed as well. "It was a rough scene we went through, with that lunatic. I mean, I got shot, and I got off easy. It takes time to process that kind of experience," said Henry with a fleeting, haunted look in his eyes. He cleared his throat and took a long drink.

"Yeah," said Shawn, hating to think about what his dad had been processing after killing a man, even an evil man.

"Just give Lassiter some time. He'll get over it."

Shawn nodded.

"How about you? Are you going to get over it?" asked Henry as he stared at the horizon.

"What?" asked Shawn with surprise. "Get over what?"

"Everything," said Henry, giving him a piercing look.

Shawn looked at him for a moment, then he looked back at the orange sky. He remembered that night in the Psych office talking to Gus about how much he wanted to solve two cases in a row without his father's help. Everything he'd done after that had almost ended in disaster. Then he thought about what he'd said to Morton. Was he holding his dad to a standard to which he didn't even hold himself? He'd gone to his father so many times before for his help, but then he resented his father for the fact that he needed him sometimes. How crazy was that? That was the poisonous kind of crazy that ended up with relationships like the one Morton had with his son Maxwell. Expect the impossible, resent the reality. He did resent the training his father had subjected him to as a kid, but he honestly wouldn't be able to do the things he based his livelihood on now without it. He still didn't think it was the right way to raise a kid, but it was done. It was in the past. And he knew in his core that his father hadn't done it out of malice. He'd only wanted to help his son learn what he thought was important. Shawn realized that he'd finally gotten to the point where he could forgive his dad, but he also knew he needed to forgive himself, as well, for rebelling against Henry's methods. He was finally starting to feel that it wasn't a matter of who's right and who's wrong. He took a long drink, sensing his dad waiting for a response.

So, they were two different people who valued things differently. That didn't mean they couldn't still love each other and help each other in the ways they did things best. His father helped him organize his thoughts on cases, and sometimes got him past emotional ideas or other things that would hang him up. Shawn was pretty sure he'd helped his father loosen up over the past few years. Hell, he'd bucked the chief's orders and had convinced Lassie, of all people, to do the same to mount a rescue effort in the middle of the desert, Lone Ranger and Tonto-style. That certainly wasn't the Henry Spencer of his SBPD days. Shawn smirked at the image of his dad in a cowboy suit complete with fringe and sitting on a big white horse. What they had now worked, no matter how long it had taken them both to figure that out. Things would get back to normal, the new normal that was a little weird sometimes, but fun. Things were good. He sighed and sank deeper into his chair, feeling like he was letting something go that needed let go.

"Yeah, dad. I'll get over it," he said with a crooked grin.

Henry eyed him for a moment, then he just nodded and smiled. "I knew you would."

THE END