Y'all... I feel like a horrible person. lol I was doing so well on the writing thing, and I had half of the second chapter written, so I decided to post the first chapter of this story... and then my muse abandoned me. *sigh* It wants to blame NaNoWriMo and tell me it has a hangover from all of the words it had to compose last month, but I don't know if that's just its excuse or if that really is what happened. Either way, I didn't get this done until today, and I sincerely apologize for the delay!

Thanks for the feedback so far; I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

And yes, I know this is a bit different of a setup than my fics normally have. I wanted to try something new - which sorta happened without my planning it - so you may notice there are a few vague bits and some of it jumps around quite a lot. It's just kind of how the story came out, and I hope it worked for you readers. :)

(Present)

Juliet exits the hospital's security office, head high and shoulders straight with a determined focus on the task at hand. She can't stop to think of all of the ways this could turn bad, but she also has to account for all of the possibilities. That's just part of her job. She weighs all of the factors, draws conclusions, makes decisions. And normally, she just takes it all as it comes. Sure, there are hard aspects to the job, but that is to be expected. This… this is not. This is personal, and it makes things ten times harder than when it is not.

Flashing her badge and making important, legal-sounding threats regarding an escaped patient had allowed her access to the hospital's security footage. Between the different angles that the cameras were filming, she was able to ascertain that Shawn left of his own free will and that he had stumbled off looking very disoriented - and very scared.

She grits her teeth as she recalls that fear that had been so clear on his face on the recordings. If it hadn't been for that trigger-happy robber at the sandwich shop… Then she stops herself when she realizes she is starting to sound like her partner. She pushes her worry and anger at the man who had caused the problem to the side and pulls out her cell phone. She dials the station as she strides towards the exit where Gus is waiting.

Buzz answers on the second ring, and she barks out orders. Belatedly she realizes that she could be nicer about her commands, but it is her boyfriend who's missing, and she can apologize later. Right now, they just need to get moving on the case.

The hospital cameras had captured Shawn heading in an easterly direction, and he had been on foot. She smiles grimly to herself. As long as he hasn't stolen a car or managed to get a ride, they will be able to find him before the night is over.

As she steps out into the cold night air, she shivers and rubs her arms. It is an unseasonably cold night, and she is immediately grateful that the cameras showed Shawn had managed to find a change of clothes somewhere along the way between his bed and the exit. If he is running around the city in a hospital gown… well, he won't last long in that attire. That much is sure.

(Approximately seven hours and forty minutes earlier)

Shawn had done exactly what Lassie had instructed, and he grinned proudly to himself as he hung up the phone. Jules had seemed very worried when he told her what was going on, but he had tried to downplay it as much as possible while still communicating the urgency of the situation. Either way, he was sure she would be at the little restaurant before much longer, along with backup, and that was good enough for him.

He looked around the men's room and shrugged to himself. If Lassie had his way, this was where Shawn would stay until Jules and the backup did arrive. It was out of the way and safe, which did have its perks. However, Shawn couldn't possibly leave the head detective out there alone. Who knew what could go down in the next few minutes? It was definitely best if he went back and tried to help out however he could. Maybe Lassie would need someone to hold the gun while he handcuffed the bad guy.

Shawn fired off a quick text before tucking his iPhone into his pocket and pushing through the door back into the restaurant. Gus was never going to believe what was going on.

(Present)

A distant clanging noise pulls him from the deep sleep he had finally managed to find. His head jerks upright, and he immediately winces at the pain. There is both the as-yet-unidentifiable injury that has caused him discomfort - and that's putting it gently - throughout the night, but there is also the sharp pain of a crick in his neck due to his falling asleep while sitting propped against a wall. At some point after having fallen asleep, he's straightened out from his fetal position, which is probably why he's so cold now.

Come to think of it, he realizes, there is an ache deep in his bones, which he assumes he can blame on the damp and ice-cold fabric of his pants. Something in the back corner of his brain tells him this is strange. He puts a hand down to brace against the ground, knowing he cannot stand quite on his own, but immediately yanks it back in surprise. He looks down and, once his vision focuses, he sees he is seated in over three inches of water - which he knows was not there when he sat down… however long ago it was. It's still dark outside, so he has no idea how much time has passed.

He can't help but giggle at that. Who would sit down in a puddle of water on purpose anyway? That would just be silly, he decides.

The clanging noise sounds again, this time much closer. He looks up in the direction from which it has come, an unexplainable fear coursing through his veins at the realization that someone or something is coming his way. Visions of terrible monsters fill his head, and prompt him to put both hands down and push to his feet, disregarding the pain and the water on the floor. The edges of his sleeves get soaked along the way, but he ignores that small discomfort in favor of standing. It's harder than he expected; his aching legs do not cooperate, and he has to put a hand on the wall to keep himself from toppling over.

He bites his lip as he leans heavily against the wall. He has to bend over slightly to relieve the pain in his side. One of the only good things that seems to have come from the cold is that the pain from the night before is numbed to a large extent. He mainly just has discomfort when standing upright pulls at whatever wound he has sustained. He looks down and his eyes widen as he takes in the bloom of red that has discolored the gray sweatshirt he had grabbed on his way out of the hospital. Out of curiosity, he pulls up the hem. There is a large rectangle of gauze covering the majority of his side; the bandage itself is completely soaked through, with only its edges and the medical tape holding it in place retaining any white at all. The rest of it is completely dark red, which explains the state of his shirt. A remarkable bruise envelopes the rest of his side, blooming out from underneath the bandage in a myriad of purple, blue, and black colors.

Then he hears the clanging again, only this time it sounds farther away. He tilts his head to listen closer and hears voices, and another pang of fear comes to the front of his mind. It is still unexplainable but it is there, and he gives into it without another thought.

(Approximately seven hours and thirty-seven minutes earlier)

Shawn stepped out of the restroom fully intending to head straight for the counter to help Lassie, but he was temporarily distracted by an abandoned table near the back of the restaurant. Whoever had been sitting there until a few moments before hadn't even touched their bag of Sun Chips! Shawn shrugged; no use letting those go to waste. He hadn't had a chance to really eat lunch anyway, not with all of the drama that had started unfolding in the restaurant.

A few more steps, and the standoff at the front of the restaurant came into view - and Shawn could tell things were going badly. Lassie and the bad guy were both aiming their guns at each other, the head detective looking both angry and annoyed and the would-be robber looking far from ready to give up. It didn't make Shawn feel any better to see that the man's finger was resting on the trigger of the gun rather than outside of it. His dad's words during their many training sessions over the years rang through Shawn's head, and he could just imagine what his dad would say if he was here.

Then Lassie spoke, and Shawn's attention was brought back to the present circumstances. "It's not hard to see how this is going to end up going down," the head detective growled. Either I shoot you now, or you keep going with this standoff, and you get shot when my backup arrives."

"Or I just shoot you, take my money, and get out before your backup gets here," was the as-yet-to-be-named bad guy's response.

Shawn stepped forward, but his movement caught the bad guy's attention. Lassie had apparently noticed the man's diversion of focus and started to move for the gun, prompting a "Stay there!" when the gunman noticed.

"I'd do what he said, dude," Shawn advised, popping another chip into his mouth. Since he had been spotted already, he strode up to join Lassie. Hopefully he could find some way to help. "He's usually serious about shooting people, especially when he's grumpy because someone interrupted his lunch."

Lassie sighed heavily. "Spencer," the head detective said, still keeping his full attention focused on the gun being aimed at him, "I thought I told you to stay out of sight."

"Oh… Oh, you meant completely?" Shawn blinked. "I thought you just meant while I was on the phone. Jules says 'hi,' by the way," he added. She hadn't exactly said that, but she had seemed worried about her partner, so Shawn figured the sentiment was still there.

In the few moments it took for their exchange, Shawn noticed the cashier's eyes darting for the door, and he could tell the teen was calculating how long it would take to get out. Shawn opened his mouth to distract the gunman long enough for the kid to make his escape when it became a moot point. The cashier seemed to make up his mind to run for it.

As the young man's sudden movement and subsequent banging of the kitchen door distracted the others, Shawn's mind was quickly processing the variables and possible outcomes. Noticing the would-be robber's finger tighten on the trigger, Shawn made his move.

He yelled a warning as he launched himself forward, managing to make contact with Lassie just as the bang of the gunshot rang out. He and the head detective were already on their way down, but it seemed he was not quite as fast as he would have liked. He felt a burn as something brushed against his side just before his head met the firm and unrelenting tile surface of the floor.

(Present)

Gus is looking at her expectantly as she climbs into the passenger seat and shuts the door. Worry creases his face. "What did you find?" The look on his face speaks volumes about how worried he is for his friend.

She puts off business for just a moment to give him a small, sympathetic smile. "I'm worried about him too."

She tries not to think about the events leading up to their current situation… the call from Shawn earlier that afternoon, right when she had gotten back to the station… the rushing over to the sandwich shop… hearing a gunshot… They had apprehended the gunman as he made a break for it, but then they had stepped inside the shop and…

"Juliet?" Gus's voice breaks into her memories, and she's grateful. She does not want to relive the scene in the interior of the restaurant, nor the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing the others…

She shakes her head to clear it and takes a deep breath. "We've got units out looking for him now. You up for joining in?" She knows what his answer will be already, but she has to ask.

"Just point the way," he replies, his face steeling with determination.

Neither want to voice their concern for their friend. Nature playing a terrible trick on them by tonight being one of the most unusually cold nights anyone can remember, and they know their time for finding their friend is extremely limited.

As Gus stops at the light to turn out of the parking lot, Juliet's phone rings. She snatches it up as soon as the ringer begins to sound. When she stills, Gus glances over to see what is going on. Her face tells him it isn't the news they wanted to hear.

"What is it?" he dares to ask as he ignores the light that has just turned green. There is no one in line behind him, so he figures it's excusable given the circumstances.

Juliet hears his question but ignores it as she listens to whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying. Then she nods curtly and responds with a clipped, "We'll be right there." She ends the call and sinks back into her seat, then she looks over at Gus with a serious and worried look on her face. She pauses a moment, then takes a deep breath. "Security at a warehouse just reported someone having been inside. They had a pipe leak and when they went to check it out, they scared someone off." She caught his look and gave a half-shrug. "No one saw who it was, but there was blood mixed in the water and on the wall, so…" She trails off, almost afraid of what her words might mean.

"And you think it's Shawn?" Gus asks hopefully.

She nods. "It makes sense. And the warehouse is in the direction he was headed on the security footage. Let's head down there and see what we can find. He can't have gotten far."

The darkness is not helping him keep his footing any as he stumbles down the alleyway. There are not very many streetlights in the area, and the ones that there are do not quite reach between the buildings where he is currently trying to move at a decent pace. Only the barest illumination finds its way onto his path - although he supposes he should be grateful for what there is.

There is still the raw taste of panic in the back of his throat, brought on by whatever dark force was trying to get into the warehouse back there… He had somehow managed to slip through a back door and had not looked back once he had. Adrenaline had lent speed to his stumbling feet for the first few moments - or maybe longer; he isn't exactly sure - but now he is starting to tire. The pain is coursing through his body, and nearly everything within him is begging for him to just find a place to sit down and rest. There is just one little part, a survival instinct, that is pushing him to continue on. And so, spurred by the fear of whatever had been clanging around at the warehouse, he continues onward until he physically cannot make it another step.

He looks around and squints to make out his surroundings. There is not much, just a few discarded odds and ends lying against the walls on either side of him. He's taken several turns down the maze of alleys in this neighborhood, and it feels as if he is miles from where he first started. Although if he had to guess, he probably had not managed to make it very far on his stumbling feet.

His legs are trembling, and he can feel cold sweat trickling down his face. Some of it drips into his eyes, stinging with its saltiness. He lifts a hand to wipe it away and notices how much his fingers are shaking. It's still very dark, so he feels more than sees his vision starting to cloud.

The sound of pounding feet echoes down the alley towards him, along with muffled shouts. When he jerks his head around to look, things tilt crazily, but he still manages to see bright beams of light that are bouncing around at the end of the alley. He manages to get to the closest wall without completely losing his balance. There is a dumpster there, and he slides down to a sitting position behind it, putting the large metal object between himself and whoever is coming. He still has the small urge to flee, but he knows he cannot make it much farther on his own. There is also this small part of him that is arguing that he is fine. The only people out looking for him are not there to hurt him. In fact, he realizes belatedly, they may have been the ones at the warehouse. A laugh escapes him as he considers the whole situation.

Then a chill wracks his body and he pulls his legs in tighter and wraps his arms around them. He blinks hard, trying to stay awake at least until the others get there, and he almost succeeds.

He can just hear what sounds like Gus yelling his name, just see the flashlight beam as it rounds the corner of the dumpster - and then he can definitely see it as it hits his face full-on.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing," he mumbles with a grin as he slips off into the welcoming, painless arms of darkness.

He knows he'll be fine now.

The End.