The climax is finally here! Dun-dun-dun! Actually, I think this will be the last chapter, and then I'm going to be taking a break from fanfiction. Sorry to those of you who are currently reading my White Collar fic, but I'm putting it on hiatus. However, I am not done writing. I am just taking time to work on my other stories, which I have posted on wattpad. Please feel free to check them out, titled "Just Run" and "Shadow of Death" under the username lizhunt3r.

Psych Quote of the Day: "Wow. Dad. Please tell me you're wearing that shirt because someone has to spot you from space." ~ Shawn

-O-

Chapter 9

The Gun Goes Bang, Bang

And then the door opened, and reality came crashing down.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Tim feigned embarrassment as he stepped into the room. The dusty knees of his jeans leveled with Shawn's face. "Am I interrupting something? Should I come back later?" the chuckle that followed spoke volumes. He wasn't leaving. Not until he'd finished what he'd started.

"Wow," Shawn turned to look at his father. "This guy's really a bastard, isn't he?" The psychic turn back around just in time to receive the full, stinging force of a backhand slap. His jaw dropped in surprise. "Ow!"

"I'm the bastard?" Tim seethed. Something clicked, and Shawn realized that he'd been lucky to escape being hit with the pistol clutched in Tim's other hand. He was shifting his grip, now, barely trying to contain his rage. "Me? Your father-" the gun whipped around, settling its aim on Henry. Shawn swallowed as he heard the safety click off. "-took everything from me! My wife, my life! Everything!"

"The world was better off-"

"Stop!" Shawn yelled, cutting off his father. He was vaguely aware of his hands beginning to tremble behind his back – where was Gus when he needed him? (But no, Shawn didn't think he'd be able to take it if Gus had been stuck here, too) – and he clenched them into fists. "You – you should just – just put the gun down. Put it down," every word was a struggle for Shawn, coming out through clenched teeth.

Tim appeared not to have heard. He strode over to Henry and placed the gun at his temple, as casually as if he were flicking a fly off his forehead. Shawn's father swallowed, but kept silent. Tim looked back at Shawn, smirking at the psychic's horrified expression. "Why?"

"Just put it down. Put it down. Walk away. If you walk out now, we can pretend this never happened. You rebuild your sad – happy, happy! Happy little life, and we get to keep ours."

"Shawn!" Now Henry did speak up. "This man is a criminal! We can't just let him walk away!"

"Dad! Shut up!" Shawn shouted, his voice breaking on the last word as Tim cocked the gun. "You! Criminal dude! Just – wait!" Tim grinned, his finger sliding back on the trigger.

And then, from outside, came the sound of gravel crunching under tires. Car doors slammed. Tim pulled the pistol away, and Shawn drew in a stuttering breath, watching as the psychopath peeked out the curtains. Cursing under his breath, he turned back to his two hostages.

"It seems we have company," he informed them as he went to work unbinding Henry from the chair.

No. It couldn't be that simple, could it? Shawn held back a surprised laugh. It was! Slowly, silently, Shawn pushed himself into a standing position. Henry saw this, and nodded ever so slightly. The minute the last length of rope had fallen from the chair, Shawn swung his fists into Tim's side, knocking the man aside. The pistol flew out of his hands.

Henry pulled himself out of the chair, knees wobbling unsteadily for a moment, before diving for the discarded weapon. At the last second, Tim elbowed him away. Shawn dodged his stumbling father and rammed his body into Tim's, sending them both flying away from the gun. They collided with the wall. No sooner had they touched the ground than Tim was shoving Shawn away, treading none-too-lightly on several of Shawn's fingers and slamming his head with his boot as he made another dash for the gun.

Shawn yelled in pain as the bones in his fingers cracked and popped with a sickeningly loud sound. Towards the front of the room, Tim and Henry were grappling over the weapon. Their figures became blurred, fuzzy shapes in Shawn's vision. A loud bang punctuated the sound of grunts and shouts from the two men, and Shawn looked over, expecting to see the worst. But both men were still fighting, and neither of them had hit anything with enough force to make such a loud noise.

The front door. Someone must have kicked it open. They were about to be rescued! With this realization, a splitting pain erupted in Shawn's head.

And then Tim found the gun, his fingers closing around it. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Henry by the neck and held him in a headlock position, the gun poised at his head. The world swirled in Shawn's view, nauseating him. The door to the room flew open. And Shawn blacked out.

-O-

Juliet was the first one into the room, followed by Gus, Lassiter, and Chief Vick.

Timothy Rayburn has been expecting them. He had Henry in a headlock, a gun cocked to his temple. Shawn was… where was Shawn? And then she saw him. Lying, limp and unmoving, on the floor.

"Shawn!" Juliet's voice was one with Gus's. Gus, however, was the one who made the move to rush to his fallen friend's side.

"Uh-uh-uh," Rayburn made a scolding noise as Gus tried to make his way to Shawn. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Juliet swallowed, her fingers tightening on her own gun. One shot, and it would be over. But Henry was in the way, she couldn't fire without risking injuring him as well. "Drop the gun, Rayburn!" she commanded, hoping against all hope that he would.

"I don't think so," he shook his head. "How about you three drop yours? Or I'll be forced to put a bullet in Officer Spencer's thick head."

Slowly, defeated, Juliet lowered her gun. Behind her, Lassiter and the chief did the same.

"Good, now kick them over here," Rayburn ordered.

-O-

Thud thud… thud thud… thud thud… thud thud… tap. The drumming sound of Shawn's heartbeat was interrupted by a new sound. A dull thunk, reverberating up from his foot. Startled, he blinked his eyes open. And wished he hadn't. The light burned into his eyes and his head pounded. But that wasn't the worst part. In front of him, his father was at the mercy of the man holding the gun to his head. And Juliet, Lassiter, Gus, Chief Vick, all were weaponless.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Something was poking his leg, repeatedly. Or was it just the memory of the first touch that he felt there? Either way, he looked down. Smiled when he saw the discarded gun lying against his shin. He moved to pick it up and bit back a cry when his fingers exploded in white-hot pain. No. Pain, even this intense, couldn't stop him now. He gripped the gun in his bound hands, face paled with the effort. A smile curled his lips as he realized no one had noticed him yet.

Aim. Pull back. Fire.

A sound like a car backfire tore into the room. Tim jolted, looking down at his shoulder in surprise, before falling backwards. Juliet rushed to catch a stumbling Henry. Gus rushed to Shawn, who had let the gun slip out of his hands the moment it had fired, and was now staring at the fallen man, a sheen of sweat coating his face.

"Gus…" Shawn's voice was hoarse. "Is he…"

"He's okay, Shawn. You got his shoulder." Gus's voice was quiet. He was still shell-shocked from all that had happened in only an hour.

Shawn swallowed, nodding. "Dad?"

"Your dad's okay, too. His nose is broken, but – Shawn?" The psychic's face had gone shockingly pale. His eyes fluttered closed. Frantically Gus searched Shawn's body for any sign of a wound, but he looked fine. "Shawn!"

"Now I know what Rick Deckard felt like in Blade Runner," Shawn groaned. "Gus, will you donate your fingers?"

"Shut up, Shawn!" Gus rolled his eyes. His friend was okay.

Several minutes later they all stood around an open ambulance, Shawn with his fingers wrapped and Henry with ice on his nose. Lassiter and Chief Vick had left to bring Rayburn to the station.

"Shawn!" Juliet ran up as the police cruiser pulled away. She threw her arms around his neck and their lips met for a brief second.

"Whoa, Jules! What's wrong? It's not like I nearly died or anything!" Shawn grinned.

"Shawn, Henry was the one at gunpoint," Gus pointed out.

"Yes, and I saved him and now we're both okay."

"And,"Juliet added with a smile, "Timothy Rayburn's being charged with two attempted murders. He's going away for a long time."

Shawn nodded and offered a half smile, but didn't answer. Instead, he glanced at his father, who was looking off into the night, silent. Juliet followed his gaze.

She turned to Gus. "Gus, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Gus followed her gaze and nodded. "Of course."

Shawn watched them go for a long moment. His two best friends in the entire world, who, without, he would be dead. Probably several times over. He looked at his father again. The light of the moon added more shadow to the wrinkles lining his mouth as he frowned. The ice pack on his nose was beginning to leak.

"Dad," he said. It came out quieter than he intended it to, and he tried again. "Dad."

His father turned to look at him.

"I'm… sorry," Shawn began. He didn't know what else to say. He sucked at this sentimental stuff. "I don't care who you date. Well, that's not entirely true, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I shouldn't have snapped at you that morning. On the pier."

For a moment, Henry was silent. "Shawn, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

And that was enough. Shawn nodded and pursed his lips. He looked down at his hands, his good one picking at the bandaging on his bad one. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. And the next thing he knew, his father was pulling him into his arms.

For the first time since he'd found his father missing, Shawn relaxed.

-O-

Aww! Such a sweet ending, right? I guess this is where I would say fin.

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