Author's Note: My first Psych story that I've ever posted! Yay! Sorry if it's a bit long for a oneshot but I thought if I broke it up it would ruin the flow of the story. I hope everyone enjoys and feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be, much to my chagrin.

A Late Night Call

It was very late, or early depending on your point of view, and Henry Spencer could not sleep. He groaned, turning over on his side and squinting at the clock. 1:48. Perfect. His back was killing him. No matter what position he took it was one solid ache and it was fast becoming the only thing he could think about. He had to go to the bathroom too. Again, perfect.

He groaned again, slowly lowering his feet to the floor and sitting up, trying to ignore the increase of pain when he moved. Staggering, slightly hunched over, he managed to make it out of his bedroom, down the hallway, past Shawn's old room, and into the bathroom. Panting, he stood there against the sink trying to get the pain to a more manageable level. First thing was first. Pain medication. Then the bathroom.

So, hands fumbling a bit he opened up the mirror on his medicine cabinet and scanned what he had. Damnit. The strongest he could find was Tylenol and he somehow didn't think that would so much as touch the pain in his back. He'd try it anyway he decided. Anything had to be better than this.

Trembling and hoping against hope that it would work he shook five pills into his hand then cried out as without warning his back seized up and the pain there nearly tripled in intensity. "Shit," he gasped out as the pills tumbled out of his hand and he sank to the floor. God, it hurt. Hurt so badly that he could barely move.

Wheezing, he slumped against the wall and tried to get himself under control. Tried to ignore the white-hot pokers jabbing him in the back. It would go away. He just needed to rest a minute. But it wasn't going away and after a few minutes he decided he should try to get up anyway.

Grabbing the sink he decided he would use it as leverage to pull himself to his feet. Once up he could use the wall for support if he needed it. It was a good plan, at least in theory, but to his horror he only managed to pull himself a few inches off the floor before his back stopped cooperating and he couldn't get his muscles to work for the pain.

Falling back down he cursed in frustration. He couldn't even lift himself up as far as the toilet and his back ached so much he felt like a ten ton weight had fallen on it. What to do, what to do?

There was nothing for it; he needed help. The problem was that his cell phone was downstairs recharging, the last thing he had done before going to bed. The house phone though had two lines, one in the kitchen and one in his bedroom. The latter was obviously his best bet but to Henry, stuck on the floor in agony it was like miles.

Managing to drag himself in a sort of undignified crawl to the bathroom door he gazed toward his bedroom and couldn't help but wince, the hall seemed to stretch into eternity. This was going to hurt.

Thanking whatever god may be out there that there was no one around to see him he lowered himself on his belly and dragged himself forward with his arms, feeling like a soldier trying to avoid bombs on enemy territory. Pain blazed behind his eyes and he saw stars; I've been hit Captain! He couldn't do this. It was too far. He was only a foot from the bathroom and already he had to stop.

Lying with his face in the carpet, struggling to get himself under control, he realized he still had to piss. Great. It really wasn't his night. Oh well, what were important now were his bedroom and the phone inside it. He would just have to wait a bit longer for the bathroom.

Groaning, he made it a couple of feet further before the pain was too much and he had to stop again. This was going to take awhile and the bedroom still seemed no closer. Damnit, if this night ever ended and he managed to make it through, he was going to have a phone installed in every single room. Every single damn one.

What he judged to be about a half an hour later he managed to make it just inside the doorway of his bedroom before collapsing for what felt like the millionth time and gasping for breath through the pain. He could see the bed now though, and the phone sitting innocently on the nightstand beside it. He could see his salvation and somehow that gave him the strength to pull himself up again.

Finally he managed to make it to the stand, leaning against the bed, almost crying with relief and pain he shakily pulled the phone into his lap and with trembling fingers dialed the first number that came to his mind.

Shawn Spencer turned over in his bed, frowning in his sleep. Music. He could hear music. He wasn't dancing or otherwise doing something that required music, so why did he hear it? It kept going on and on and on. It was familiar music, he did know that much. The Spider-Man theme song. Why that should mean something to him though he wasn't quite sure. However before he could quite place it in his mind it stopped and he slept on.

Henry almost sobbed in frustration when he got his son's voice mail after 10 rings. Only by reminding himself that tears were an extreme weakness did he succeed in not succumbing to them. Gritting his teeth he pushed the redial button and waited.

Music. Again. Spider-Man theme song, he recognized it almost instantly this time. Why was he listening to the Spider-Man theme song? Ringtone! It was his ringtone he realized suddenly and his hand groped around on his nightstand for his cell phone. Grabbing it he squinted at his caller ID and groaned. Spectacular.

Glancing at his clock, seeing it was three in the morning he groaned again, flipping the phone open and putting it to his ear. "What could you possibly want at this time Dad?" he snapped irritably.

"Shawn."

At his father's clenched and forced voice Shawn frowned, sitting up in his bed, instantly more alert. "Dad?" More gentle this time. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Hurts," Henry gasped and Shawn's eyebrows rose. His father never admitted to pain. He considered it a weakness.

"What hurts?" At his father's labored breathing Shawn's worry grew. "Deep breaths," he instructed, getting up now to search for his clothes. "Tell me what hurts."

"Back. Help," Henry forced out, panting from the effort of keeping his mind on the conversation for so long and the pain starting to get the better of him again.

"I'll be right there," Shawn said soothingly, snapping his phone shut and pulling on his shoes before grabbing his helmet and keys and running out the door.

Shawn was coming. Henry tried to focus on that and not the pain in his back or the increasing pressure in his groin that was the need to urinate. He would be all right because Shawn was coming. How his son was supposed to make the pain go away Henry wasn't sure, but Shawn was coming and he would be okay. That was what he focused on as he sat on the floor in his dark house, leaning against his bed. Shawn was coming. He'd be all right soon.

Five minutes later Henry lifted his head; he could have sworn he had heard… there it was again, a dull roar in the distance. His son on his death trap! Shawn was coming. The roar got louder and then abruptly came to a stop as his son pulled up in front of the house.

For a few minutes there was silence and then he heard what sounded like glass shattering and a moment later footsteps in his downstairs. What the hell had happened?

Pulling up in front of his father's house Shawn killed the engine on his bike and dismounted, quickly jogging up the pathway, cursing under his breath when he found the door locked, not that he really expected much else from his father. Still, what was he supposed to do now? It'd been awhile since he'd had a key for this house and his father hadn't sounded like he was in any condition to come and open the door for him.

Hurts, his father had said over the phone. Help.

Shawn's eyes narrowed as he allowed them to rove over the house. He had to get in. Carefully he studied the window that led into the living room, and then he eyed the yard and driveway. There. A big rock.

Removing his jacket he used it to cover his hands and arms before picking up the rock and smashing it with all his might against his father's living room window, which shattered instantly. Then, making sure there weren't any jagged edges to cut himself on, he gracefully climbed through, landing on his feet in the dark living room.

He couldn't see a thing but having grown up in this house Shawn knew his way without lights and confidently made his way forward. "Dad?" he called quietly. He didn't think his father would be downstairs at this time of night but then he also hadn't counted on his father calling him at this time of night either.

There was no answer though and a quick examination of the downstairs proved that Henry had to be upstairs. Jogging up the stairs, taking them two at a time, he instantly took in his surroundings. The bathroom light was on and there were pills scattered all over the sink and floor but no sign of his father. The only other options were his father's bedroom and his old bedroom and doubting his father would be in the latter he headed for his dad's room.

"Dad?" Entering the room and switching on the light he spotted his father leaning against his bed. Sweat was pouring off of him as he shaded his eyes from the sudden light and as he looked up at his son his eyes were glazed with pain.

"What took you so long?" Henry croaked out and Shawn rolled his eyes, kneeling down across from him.

"I got here as fast as I could," Shawn said defensively. "How long have you been here?" he asked, indicating the floor.

"Couldn't get up," Henry moaned, hating himself for the weakness he heard in his own voice but far past the point where he could do anything about it. "Back seized up. Can hardly move."

"Come on Dad, I'll help you get on the bed," Shawn murmured, sensing his father's embarrassment at his helplessness. "Ready?" Shawn asked, putting Henry's arm around himself.

"Shawn," Henry's voice sounded strangely plaintive and Shawn paused, not liking to think of the kind of pain that would drive his father to his knees and force him to sound like this.

"Dad?" he said evenly, not wanting to betray the fear he felt for the older man at this moment.

"Hurts," his father whispered, seeming ashamed to even say it. "Hurts to move."

And Shawn didn't miss the slight tremor in his father's voice that the older man tried desperately to hide. A second admission of pain in one night. "I know," Shawn said softly. "You can't stay on the floor though. The bed has to be more comfortable, right?"

Locking eyes with his son, his gaze searching, almost like he were looking for reassurance, Henry nodded and slowly Shawn lifted him up, bearing most of the older man's weight on his shoulder. Pain flared through Henry's back at the movement and he hissed involuntarily, reflexively clenching his arm more tightly around his son.

"Almost there," Shawn murmured, gently lowering him to the bed where Henry sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to fight the pain. Studying his father Shawn came to his decision. "You need to go to the hospital," he announced, pulling out his phone and flipping it open.

"No," Henry ground out through clenched teeth, his eyes snapping open and searching for his son's once more. Didn't Shawn know how much it had cost him to even admit he had needed help in the first place? How much it had cost him to call Shawn? His own son, his flesh and blood? To let a bunch of strangers see him like this? No. Unthinkable. "I'll wait it out. It will pass," he said stubbornly.

"How's that worked out for you so far?" Shawn asked, a knowing look in his eyes. "There are pills scattered all over the bathroom. Did they work? That is if you even managed to take them before the pain got to bad. You didn't, did you?"

Henry closed his eyes, not bothering to respond. Of course Shawn was right. Why did he have to train the kid so well?

"Dad, there's nothing I can do for you except get you help that can actually help," Shawn said when it became clear that Henry wasn't going to answer him.

"You can help me to the bathroom," Henry forced himself to say after a moment. It was better than pissing himself and he really did have to go.

"If I do will you let me call an ambulance for you?" Shawn asked, jumping on the one opportunity he saw.

Henry once more closed his eyes, the pain in his back roaring its constant displeasure and the pressure in his groin fast becoming unbearable. "Yes," he said finally, forcing the word out in defeat. At this point he would do damn near anything for even a second's relief.

Nodding in satisfaction Shawn disappeared out of the room and down the hall. "Shawn?" Henry called after him in confusion and just a hint of desperation.

"Be right back!" Shawn yelled and Henry could hear him jogging down the stairs and he sighed. What was the kid doing now?

A minute later he had his answer as Shawn reappeared, holding one of his mother's old flower vases. "What's that for?" Henry demanded.

"For you," Shawn said simply.

Eyeing his son Henry frowned. "No way," he said after a moment, realizing what Shawn meant. "The bathroom is just down the hall."

"Right, and I can't get you there without causing you even more pain," Shawn said reasonably. "This will be a lot easier on both our parts."

"Fine," Henry ground out, unable to dispute the truth in Shawn's words. "Not a word to anyone," he added, taking the offered vase. "And you can just turn around."

"Yes sir," Shawn said with a mock salute, turning on his heel and whistling loudly to himself, hoping to drown out the sounds of his father peeing into the vase.

The sweet relief of at least one of his current problems was very welcome and Henry sighed. Now if only his back would stop hurting he'd be all set. "All right," Henry said after a moment over his son's whistling and having nowhere to put it he reluctantly handed the vase back to him.

Shawn turned toward his father, wrinkling his nose slightly in disgust as he took the vase back, leaving the room to empty it and pulling out his cell phone with his free hand. "Now for my part of the bargain," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

His part of the bargain? Oh… right… the hospital. Henry groaned but it turned into a hiss of pain as his back flared up again, reminding him of its presence. As though he could have possibly forgotten.

"Door's unlocked," Shawn was saying into his phone a moment later as he reentered his father's bedroom, free of the vase now. "Just send your guys in and up the stairs. Bedroom on the end of the hall… yeah… thanks." With that he snapped his phone shut and turned his attention back to Henry. "Ambulance is on the way. Should be here in about ten minutes."

"Wonderful," Henry snarled, panting as he still tried to get over his most recent increased stab of pain. He was tired of hurting, tired of trying to force it away, it hurt so much and it was quickly overcoming him.

"Hey," Shawn's voice was soft as he sat on the edge of the bed, once more holding his father's eyes with his own. "Concentrate on me. Help is on the way; it's going to be okay soon. Just a little longer."

Breathing heavily Henry heeded the word of his son, staring back into his eyes and concentrating on his voice and his words, trying to push back the feeling of being soothed like a child. Right now it didn't really matter, any type of distraction was welcome.

Ten minutes later Shawn jumped up out of the way when the paramedics bustled into his father's room with a stretcher. Sitting said stretcher on the bed beside Henry the head EMT said, "We're just going to quickly lift you up and onto the stretcher, okay? We'll be gentle but it has to be done."

"Just do it," Henry snarled, knowing they would hurt him no matter what they did.

"Careful," Shawn said, watching from the side as his father was surrounded and in one swift motion moved to the stretcher, noticing the tightening of his father's facial features but doubting anyone else did.

"Shawn," Henry called out as he was borne out of his bedroom.

"Are you going to ride with him sir?" an EMT asked, turning to Shawn.

"I'll be right behind the ambulance," Shawn said, glancing at his father who nodded, screwing his eyes shut against the movement of the stretcher and the pain that accompanied it.

Watching the paramedics put Henry in the back of the ambulance Shawn was about to put his helmet on when he paused. He would need a way to get his father back to his house and somehow he couldn't see Henry consenting to ride on the back of his motorcycle.

So, sighing dramatically, he snatched the keys to his father's truck and left the house. The ambulance was just pulling away and he got into the truck and followed it.

Arriving at the hospital Shawn was told he couldn't go with his father right away. First he had to sit in the waiting room and fill out paper work and then wait for his father's doctor to get an update before seeing him again. After around 45 minutes of waiting impatiently in the uncomfortable chairs a voice said, "Mr. Spencer?"

Shawn stood up to come face to face with a small mousy haired doctor who stared at him with dark brown eyes. "Call me Shawn," he said automatically. "What's with my dad?"

"Shawn. I'm Dr. Tylers," the mousy haired man said. "Your father's back muscles are contracted and have become very fatigued and strained. The way it looks, and from what he's said, it has been going on for a while. Tonight it seems that the muscles had a few spasms, causing the increased pain. I've given him pills to take for when the pain is bothering him and a brace to wear to bed to keep from jarring it. I've also prescribed exercises to relax the muscle strain."

Shawn nodded, carefully taking everything in. He'd never seen his father in so much pain before and he was glad there seemed to be a relatively simple answer to it. "When can he go home?" he asked after a moment.

"Whenever you're ready to take him," Dr. Tylers said, grimacing slightly as he added, "He's quite eager to leave actually."

Shawn snorted, knowing his father didn't like hospitals any more than he did. "Is he giving you a hard time?" he asked with a slight knowing grin.

"He's rather insistent," Dr. Tylers said carefully, apparently uncomfortable with giving a straight answer to that particular question. "He's a little out of it now though. I gave him morphine since his pain was so extreme." Shawn nodded his understanding and Dr. Tylers said, "I'll show you to his room.

A moment later Shawn entered his father's hospital room and sat down next to his bed. Henry's eyes opened blearily, squinting at his visitor. "Shawn," he muttered, slurring slightly as he tried to focus.

"How're you doing Pop?" Shawn asked lightly, trying not to remember the glazed look of pain he'd seen in his father's eyes earlier and glad it wasn't there now.

Henry nodded, his eyes closing again, "Want to go… home," he murmured.

"Me too Pop," Shawn said, glancing around, spotting a nurse hovering in the doorway.

"Are you going to take him home now sir?" the nurse asked, entering the room.

"Yeah," Shawn nodded, standing up, wanting to get out of the hospital every bit as much as Henry did.

"S' my truck," Henry muttered in surprise as Shawn helped him into the passenger's seat ten minutes later, the morphine still very much in control.

"Yeah, I borrowed it, didn't think you'd mind," Shawn told him as he got into the driver's seat. "Had to get you home some how. Didn't think you'd enjoy my bike."

Even through the haze of the drug Henry scowled, shaking his head. "You… need a… proper mode of… transportation…" he murmured, slurring his words as his head lolled against the window.

Shawn rolled his eyes, concentrating on the road, not bothering to respond, knowing Henry wouldn't remember this conversation after the morphine wore off. After a few minutes of silence though he glanced over at his dad and seeing he had drifted off to sleep he sighed. What a night… or day… he corrected himself, glancing at the clock, it was almost five in the morning.

Considering the pain and the drugs Shawn wondered how much of this Henry would remember. Getting that call from his father, born of pain and desperation, had worried him far more than he really cared to admit. He knew he'd seen a side of his father tonight that few ever did, a side ruled by pain and fear of that pain. All in all it was a side he could do without seeing ever again.

Pulling up in front of his father's house he somehow managed to get the older man inside. The stairs looked to daunting to try with the semi conscious man hanging off his shoulder though, and so he settled for putting him on the couch. "There you go Dad," Shawn muttered tiredly.

"Thanks," Henry slurred vaguely, not opening his eyes and not really seeming to wake up. "Shawn… hurt… you came. Thanks," he murmured, sighing and turning his head slightly, facing the back of the couch.

Shawn froze in shock but the older man said nothing else and soon he was snoring, fully under the effect of the drugs now. This was something Shawn hadn't expected, even if his father was doped up. "Your welcome Dad," he whispered after a moment, knowing Henry couldn't hear him but saying it anyway. "You would have come for me," he added, this he knew was true, even if Henry wasn't all that cavalier about his feelings for his son.

Smiling slightly now he stood up and considered what he should do next. He was very tired and he decided he might as well stay here and catch a little more sleep, this way in the morning… or later in the morning… he would have the perfect opportunity to make sure his dad was all right.

That decided he pulled out his cell phone to leave a message at the Psych office, knowing he would be late getting there and Gus would wonder where he was. "Dude, it's me," he said once the machine had beeped. "I'll be late getting in. I'll explain when I see you. Keep my seat warm for me and don't turn down any cases. Later man."

That done he slumped in the recliner across from the couch, his feet up, and fell asleep almost instantly.

At eleven o'clock in the morning Henry Spencer slowly came into alertness, slightly disoriented to find himself on his couch instead of his bed. Shifting his position a bit he realized he was wearing a back brace and with that realization the pain of the previous night was suddenly sharp in his memory. He remembered his painful struggle to the phone and his desperate call to Shawn and suddenly he felt embarrassed.

Shawn had come though and the sight of his son while he, Henry, had been in such pain had been a relief beyond words. Shawn had called him an ambulance and he had gone to the hospital. He remembered the doctor injecting morphine into his IV and after that not much else. Blurred images and sensations. They had gotten back home in his truck. Shawn had supported him through the door. And now it was morning, almost afternoon and where was Shawn? Did he go back to his apartment?

Ah, no, there he was. Henry relaxed slightly when he spotted his son slouched in a chair across the room, only then noticing his snores. He grinned in amusement; he'd forgotten how Shawn snored. His son, who hated having his night's sleep disturbed, but who had rushed out in the wee hours of the morning just to help him. Henry felt a rush of gratitude and love for the sleeping man across the room. Not that he was sure how to show either of them to Shawn, but he felt them just the same.

Slowly getting up he quietly made his way into the kitchen. He would make coffee and breakfast. Maybe Shawn would stay for a bit and enjoy them.

Waking up Shawn stretched, catlike, on the chair, the memory of the previous night coming to him faster than it had to Henry. Opening his eyes he glanced toward the couch and frowned when he found it empty but a clattering in the kitchen told him where he would find his wayward father. A glance on the clock on the wall told him it was 11:30, later than he had intended to wake up.

Walking into the kitchen he quietly observed his father as he fiddled with something on the stove. His movements were a little stiff but as he was up and moving around on his own, it was a vast improvement.

Raising a hand to his temple Shawn said in a dramatic voice, "I sense that you are feeling much better today."

Turning and looking at his son Henry rolled his eyes and said, "Don't pull that psychic crap on me Shawn. I'm the one that trained you remember? I know how you do what you do."

"Dad, I'm hurt. You hurt me just now," Shawn mock pouted, earning himself another eye roll and grinning. "So what are you making?" he asked curiously, sniffing the air. "If I were anywhere else I'd swear I smell pineapples."

"Pancakes, sausage, and… pineapples," Henry said, avoiding his son's eyes. "Thought you might stay for breakfast."

"And so you're bribing me with pineapples you sly dog! I didn't even know you had pineapples!" Shawn exclaimed, taking advantage of his father not looking at him to study him again. As he had suspected his father didn't remember his drugged thank you of a few hours before and so this was the now fully conscious and in control Henry's way of saying thank you.

Shawn smiled slightly, "Yeah Dad," he said softly. "I'll stay for breakfast."

Henry turned then, looking at his son, realizing he understood why he had made this breakfast for him. "All right," he said, motioning to the table, "Sit then," he said, putting a cup of coffee and a plate in front of him, grabbing his own and sitting as well.

Shawn, realizing he had extra pineapple, grinned. "Awesome," he declared, digging in with zest. Henry allowed himself a small indulgent smile before starting his food as well, and the rest of their meal was spent in relative silence, with neither quite sure what to say to the other.

Henry was still thinking about what he remembered of the previous hours and for once wishing he had been a bit more open around his son from the beginning, maybe then it wouldn't be so awkward now and he could just come out and thank him.

Shawn however, was sensing at least some of what his father was feeling and was feeling a bit awkward himself. Seeing his father in that private time of pain had been difficult for him and he knew for Henry as well. Furthermore, even if neither had spoken it they both understood that this was a thank you meal and his father had never done that for him before.

Eventually both silently came to the conclusion that this meal and this time together was enough. At around noon, though, when their late breakfast was over and cleared off the table Shawn cleared his throat and said, "I really have to get going. I told Gus I'd be late but he's probably wondering where I am by now."

"Tell him I said hi," Henry said, nodding to his son.

"Will do," Shawn called, walking into the living room and grabbing his helmet, Henry following. At the door Shawn turned, "Sure you're okay Dad?" he questioned with a rare seriousness.

Henry shrugged, "Little stiff, but my back's been out of whack for awhile now. I'll live," he said.

Shawn nodded and then pointed with his keys toward the end table near the door where a bag was sitting. "That's the pain medicine the doctor gave you, it's got instructions in there about the dosages and when to use it. There's also a paper explaining the brace and the exercises the doctor recommended," Shawn explained.

Henry nodded his understanding and said, "That reminds me. Here."

Shawn stepped forward, accepting the key Henry was offering and looking questioningly at his father.

"To the house," Henry remarked, his voice going stern. "So that next time you want in and I'm not here or I'm… unable… to get to the door you don't have to break one of my windows."

"Hey, the door was locked and its not like I was stopping by for a random visit. I seem to remember someone calling me," Shawn said defensively, pocketing the key all the same.

"You could have the decency to clean it up you know," Henry remarked, ignoring his son's comment, glancing at the glass still decorating his floor and raising his eyebrows.

Also glancing at the glass Shawn backed closer to the door and said, "Uh… I'm late Dad, gotta go… I'll pay for it though if you want… thanks for the breakfast, the pineapple was delicious!"

"Damn straight you'll pay for it kid," Henry sniped as he walked through the door after his son, glad the conversation was back where he knew how to deal with it, but it lacked his usual force. "Shawn," Henry called after Shawn had straddled his bike and was about to put his helmet on his head.

"Yeah?" Shawn questioned, looking up at his dad.

"I want you to have your mother's vase," Henry said, barely containing his grin at his son's look of horror.

"Um… thanks Dad but that's okay, you keep it and I'll see you later," Shawn said hastily, jamming his helmet on and with that he waved and zoomed off.

Henry did grin then, watching his son and chuckling. "That's for breaking my window kid," he muttered, going back inside when he could see Shawn no longer.

THE END.

A/N: So I'm sorry if Henry especially was a bit out of character, but to make it work for the situation he was in it had to be this way. I did my best. Hope you liked! Don't forget to review!