Written By: 909

"Spencer," Lassiter yelled as he slapped the younger man's face. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me!"

Lassiter was desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but it was just too damn heavy! How in hell did Shawn Spencer keep getting himself into messes? Sure, this one was worse than the others were, but if the man was psychic, he should be able to predict these things and avoid them!

Pushing down on the man's chest even harder, Lassiter winced at the sound of ribs breaking. He knew that if the bleeding wasn't stopped, Shawn would die but something inside told Carlton Lassiter that it wouldn't make a difference. There was just too much blood, too much red.

"Dammit Shawn," Lassiter yelled as he put all of his strength into a slap. "Didn't I tell you not to go to sleep?"

As the stinging blow echoed around the dark alleyway, Lassiter looked up desperately. Where the hell is the ambulance Lassiter thought as he poured even more pressure on the bleeding wound. Almost inaudible even in the silent alley, Shawn moaned slightly. Quickly, Lassiter tapped Shawn's cheek lightly, encouraging him.

"Come on Spencer, you can do it. Just come back to me, come on back," Lassiter called quietly, remembering to keep pressure on the chest wound.

"Lassie," Shawn said quietly, followed by a bout of coughing that left him gasping for air.

"Spencer, for once in your life shut up," Lassiter said sharply. "You can't die on me, Henry would have my head and I mean that literally."

"Lassie, please," Shawn begged, blood trickling out of his mouth. "Leave me."

"There is no way in hell that I am leaving you Shawn," Lassiter replied. "That would mean that I would have destroyed my best suit jacket and tie for no reason at all!"

For a moment, there was more silence, broken only by Shawn struggling to breathe and the occasional bird chirp. Still focused on putting his weight on the wound, Lassiter almost missed the whisper from Shawn, almost.

"Carlton Lassiter," Shawn whispered with as much force as he could. "I did this to myself and you had to screw it up."

Shocked, Lassiter lifted his head to stare at Shawn's face. There was no delusion there, only defiance. Letting his grip on the wadded up jacket slip momentarily, he could not believe the young psychic's words. Shawn tried to kill himself? That cannot be right Lassiter decided.

"Spencer, shut up," Lassiter growled over the wailing of the approaching ambulance. "You are delirious from blood loss. So, be quiet before you say something you are going to regret. Your absence of pain also signifies shock."

"Sorry Lassie," Shawn said as he struggled against Lassiter's pressure. "Just leave me, dad will understand."

Able to free one hand, Shawn grabs a discarded knife off the ground and, in front of a stunned Lassiter, drives it hard into his shoulder, right above where Lassiter was already trying to stop the bleeding.

"Bye Lassie," Shawn said as he passed out. "Sorry you had to be here for this."

Lassiter could hear the ambulance's tires skidding to a stop, but it all seemed so surreal. Beneath his hands, Shawn Spencer was bleeding out and no matter how much they bickered; Lassiter had nothing but respect for the man. It was not the blood making him numb, it was the outright shock.

Only semi-aware of his surroundings, Lassiter could feel the second ambulance paramedics pulling him in their direction, and someone talking to him loudly. However, that all faded as Lassiter fell to the ground, unable to stand any longer.

"He's hyperventilating," someone yelled. "Get an endotracheal tube ready. We will have to intubate if he can't calm down."

"Mr. Carlton Lassiter," a paramedic said with authority as he knelt next to the older man. "You have to calm down! Listen to me, what you are doing is dangerous."

That was the last thing the Santa Barbara detective heard before he too passed out.

Sitting with his head in his hands, Henry Spencer stared at his son, who was currently being sedated with Haldol. Could it be true, his son tried to commit suicide? If so, why? With these thoughts running though his head, Henry decided that he needed a walk. Exiting the ICU room, Henry began his stroll.

Most of the trip was aimless, going up and down staircases and elevators trying to clear his confused head. Finally, though, he had to return. Climbing up the staircases to the second floor ICU, Henry stopped at the first door and looked in.

Detective O'Hara was sitting in the seat on Lassiter's right, and Henry could hear choked sobs. Something told him that he should not interrupt, but another part of his mind said that Lassiter needed some support as well.

Making up his mind that he would not stay long, Henry walked to the end of the bed and stared at the unconscious agent. It had been three days since the incident, but Carlton Lassiter was still unconscious, an endotracheal tube down his throat. In the process of trying to save Shawn, Lassiter had hyperventilated and fallen unconscious. He had not woken up, and showed very few signs of doing so.

Still worried about his son, Henry made to leave when he spotted something in Lassiter's right hand. Looking at O'Hara and seeing that she had fallen asleep, Henry carefully removed the paper. It was in Shawn's handwriting, and it was a suicide note. Holding it up to the light, Henry began to read.

Lassie,

I am sorry but I had to tell someone. I am going to kill myself tonight, but I beg you not to come. Just call it in as a crime scene ok? I cannot take it anymore, all of the stress and deceits.

Also, apologize to dad for me. Tell him I am sorry for not becoming a police officer. I know that he is disappointed, and I am so sorry.

Shawn Spencer

Barely able to hold in the choked sobs, Henry carefully replaced the letter and stood up just in time to see a team of doctors running down the hallway. He could only hear snippets of the conversation but from what he heard, Henry's blood ran cold. "Code Blue" and "Room 5."

Dammit Henry thought as he ran into the long hallway. That is Shawn's Room!