And we went into a tailspin and crashed into a hillside
And the plane exploded in a giant fireball and everybody died
Except for me
You know why?
'Cause I had my tray table up
And my seat back in the full upright position
Had my tray table up
And my seat back in the full upright position
Had my tray table up
And my seat back in the full upright position
- Albuquerque, WEIRD AL YANKOVIC
0o0o0o0o0o0
"Gus…"
"Yeah Shawn…"
"Is your hand on your door handle?"
"Is yours?"
"I asked you first."
"Yes, Shawn, yes it is…"
"Count of three?"
"You know it."
"One…"
"…two…"
"THREE!!!"
The doors of the rental car burst open as Shawn and Gus hurled themselves from the vehicle. They wrapped their hands over their heads, lying on either side of the car and… and nothing happened. After a beat, Shawn raised his head. "Um… Gus?" From the other side of the vehicle, he could hear the rustle of someone standing.
"Shawn, it didn't explode."
Dragging himself to his feet, Shawn gripped his still open door tightly, his stomach rolling sickly. "Well considering how far we got that's probably a good… thing…" He paused, his eyes focused on the front of the car.
The hood wasn't shut all the way.
"Gus?"
His friend was brushing off his slacks irritably. "Yeah."
Shawn watched a drop of condensation roll down the hood of the rental and join a larger patch of water near the vents under the windshield.
"Could I borrow your shoulders for a second?"
Gus straightened, holding his keys in a loose grip. "What about that crutch I got you?"
Another bead of moisture rolled down the hood.
"I really don't think there's time for that."
Gus must have seen something in his expression, because he cursed loudly and darted around the back of the car to slip his shoulder under Shawn's arm.
"We should run."
It was bizarre really, almost surreal to feel that pounding oppression. Everything was so quiet… all he could hear was the sound of their combined breaths and their uneven footsteps as they hustled jerkily across the grass. He felt something cold run down his leg, and realized the bleeding was getting worse. It was agony. He stumbled, and Gus tightened his grip. They were almost back to the sculpture again… that stupid sculpture that stood for the sanctity of art and passion… or whatever. The stub from the discarded cigarette was still smoking weakly on the concrete beneath it. Off to the right, some kind of night bird trilled softly, adding to the ridiculousness of their flight.
Gus started to slow. "Shawn… this… is really… stupid…"
Shawn, his leg on the verge of buckling, was starting to agree.
They managed to make it about three more steps.
And then everything went white.
0o0o0o0
In retrospect, he probably should have seen it coming; and not just because he claimed to be a psychic.
Obviously they had been tailed. Just as obviously, the tailer had been more interested in taking out Mandy then themselves; which was why they hadn't acquired new ventilation on the way to their meeting. A bomb in the car was almost a guaranteed hit. If Mandy had seen them gunned down in front of her, she'd have run the other way, fast.
Shawn dropped his head. The Chief was never going to loan them another car as long as they lived. He hoped she had insurance.
The light from the fire had faded to a soft glow by this point. The flickering reflections of the police units and fire trucks cast a brighter light. Someone had apparently called 911 after the first explosion, because the blare of the fire trucks had echoed down the street three minutes after the Buick disintegrated.
As of yet, neither he nor Gus had approached the crowd.
It had really taken some work to convince Gus to agree with him. He was barely able to hold back his responses to the torment in his leg. The strain must have been showing on his face, because he almost had to hold Gus down to keep him from shouting out to the rescue crews.
If he went to the hospital now, his father would die.
And Gus knew that.
The trouble was, Shawn also knew his ability to walk was fast becoming impossible.
Which only left one option.
The only reason he hadn't used it yet was because he'd been wracking his brain for a way to keep Gus from being a part of it. But that, too, was also becoming an impossibility.
And there just wasn't any more time.
"Gus… I need to borrow your phone."
0o0o0o0
It took two hours for the police to finally finish processing the scene and take away the blackened vehicles. In that time, Shawn had drifted in an out of a dull stupor, the heat from his leg spreading through his body. Gus had forced a few aspirin into him, but it was akin to throwing a bottle of water on a house fire. Eventually, the last of the cruisers pulled away from the curb and headed back to the station.
Ten minutes later, their ride showed up.
It took two large men to pull Shawn upright. With each arm locked in a vice-like grasp, he was dragged, torturously, across the dew-flecked grass. When Gus made a furious protest, he paid for it with crushing blow to his jaw.
Shawn barely remembered the car ride.
0o0o0o0
The rug in the office was different.
Hutchins greeted them cordially enough, offering tea… and in Shawn's case, a glass of stiff brandy. They declined both.
Shawn felt sick, but it wasn't all due to his injury. What made his stomach churn, made him want to vomit… was the realization that he'd caused a man's death.
Even knowing he'd had no choice wasn't enough of a consolation.
Because of him, Brody was dead.
Granted, the man had been willing enough to butcher Gus and himself. He'd not shirked away from pulverizing his former lover either. If he hadn't named him, Brody would have been the one picking them up from the park. And yet… and this was the worst part, he was convinced his father would have found a better way.
That, more than anything else, was what tore at him. And he felt like a failure.
"I did what you asked. And judging from the change in décor, you've dealt with the problem. Now where's my father?"
Hutchins smiled benignly. To Shawn, it looked like a badly masked grimace.
"Oh, he's near. I assume you'd like to see him?"
On the couch next to him, Gus swallowed in fear, his hand still held to his swelling jaw.
"Let Gus go first."
"Shawn…" He ignored the panicked whisper, keeping his eyes locked on Hutchins.
"Let him walk out, without an escort- and then we can get my dad."
The older man chuckled, pouring himself a glass of the brandy he'd offered earlier. "The problem with this arrangement is… you no longer have anything to bargain with." He took a deep sip, then set the glass on the edge of his desk.
Shawn smiled. "You should know, you weren't the first person I called tonight."
The smirk on Hutchins' face faltered, and he folded his arms with practiced nonchalance. "Oh is that so… had a bit of a chat with your friends did you? Now Shawn, that was unwise. The deal was, no police involvement. A shame you can't keep your word. For you, and your father."
Shawn's smile widened. "Not from my perspective. You do realize we met your Ex tonight… don't you?"
The look of worry barely glinted in his eyes, but Shawn saw it. He saw it.
"I was not… ahhh, I do remember though- there was an explosion mentioned on the news, but they weren't able to identify the body… Oh, Mandy, what a terrible shame." His expression said the opposite, but that was hardly unexpected.
His position on the loveseat was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but Shawn didn't have the energy to straighten. Instead, digging his fingers into the cushion beneath him, he focused on the man in front of him. "Did you ever wonder what happened to that list of clients? You know, the one you kept under the secret panel in the right bottom drawer of your desk?"
Hutchins had just lifted his glass to take another sip. At Shawn's insinuation, his hand clamped down on the clear crystal, shaking so hard he spilled half the warm-toned liquor on the floor. Setting the glass down with a hard clack, he strode to the loveseat, his jaw clenched tightly. Standing over the younger man, he flexed his fingers in agitation.
"What about it?"
Forcing a bored expression, Shawn folded his hands in his lap. "Mandy knew about that drawer too. Too bad you don't know where she lived. The thing is… the cops do… and you have about, oh… fifteen more minutes before they show up with a warrant."
It warmed his heart to see Hutchins' hand shaking. The man stepped away again, stopping to confer urgently with his associates.
Gus leaned over, whispering fiercely. "Shawn, she never did tell you where she lived, how did you know…"
Shawn turned his head, whispering back just as adamantly. "I saw her checkbook when she was digging for a piece of paper to write down the address for the Factory. She'd changed her name, but…"
He broke off as Hutchins approached him again. "Alright, alright, you have me over a barrel… much as I'm loathe to say it. I'm assuming you have something to offer… considering I'm still holding dear daddy…"
Shawn shrugged. "Ehh, not really. Gus, you got anything?"
His friend dug in his pockets, pulling out a small wrapped package. "I got a peppermint… you're welcome to it if you like."
Hutchins was livid, his eyes wide with incredulity. "Are you lunatics? One phone call and you'll never buy another Father's Day card!"
Gus and Shawn shared a look, both wrinkling their brows. Shawn turned back, tilting his head. "Never buy another Father's Day card? Seriously? You have met my father… old, bald, a little too obsessed with fishing…"
Hutchins pivoted on his heel, heading for his desk. Shawn coughed in his hand before he was halfway there. "You know, you may want to consider calling your lawyer instead."
The look he received was priceless, and it only got better with the sound of a wooden door crashing in as uniformed officers filled the room.
"SBPD, SBPD! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! I MEAN NOW! MOVE IT AND LOSE IT PAL!"
Hutchins, hands clasped over his head, stared in disbelief at the man on the loveseat. Shawn smiled in response, one hand holding the edge of the seat tightly while the other fist bumped with Gus.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I say the cops would be here in fifteen minutes? Actually, I meant five. My bad."
0o0o0o0
They had found Henry an hour ago, right where Mandy thought he'd be. Two of the men holding him had been killed before they were able to get to him. As for Henry, he hadn't been hurt. Not surprisingly, the first thing he did was ask about his son.
He almost bit off Lassiter's head when he was told the kid was in the hospital.
When the police had stormed Hutchins' office, Spencer and Guster had been sitting calmly on a small sofa. At first, it was hard to tell that something was even wrong. But then, between mocking at Hutchins and asking about his father, the young man's eyes had suddenly rolled back in his head. When one of the officers felt his pulse, he'd been shocked by the heat radiating off his body.
They called for an ambulance immediately.
On the way to the emergency room, his heart stopped. It took two tries with the paddles to bring him back. Lassiter would have gladly kept that bit of trivia from Henry, but the man had a way of forcing people to talk. He must have been something during an interrogation.
Once at the hospital, Henry joined Gus in the waiting room. Lassiter, meanwhile, had to leave again almost immediately. Much as he was concerned about the aggravating psychic, he had a suspect to grill. And, at the moment, he was in the perfect mood to bust balls. And with the evidence they'd found at the x-wife's house, Hutchins was going away for a very long time.
The thought almost made him smile.
0o0o0o0
Shawn woke up in a sweltering, dreamy haze. He felt blissfully numb all over, like he'd bathed in Novocain. His mouth felt cottony, and he worked his tongue around a few times to make sure he hadn't been eating a Kleenex. He rolled his head to the side, amused at how wobbly it felt. Blinking slowly, it occurred to him that he might be high. Following immediately on the heels of that observation, it occurred to him that he really didn't care.
A fuzzy, blobby figure detached itself from the wall to his right and floated in front of him.
"sshhhhAAAAwwwNNN…."
He giggled at the way his name sounded… like someone was messing with the reverb settings on a piece of recording equipment.
Something touched his head… it was either a hand or baseball glove. He seriously suspected the latter. Either way, it tickled. He giggled again.
0o0o0o0
Soft light tickled at his lids.
He felt smothered, and tried to kick at the substance wrapped around him, but his body ignored him. The air felt muggy… swampish. He wanted to move his head, but lost interest before he could try.
His teeth started to chatter.
0o0o0o0
Too many shapes…
They blurred sickly as he tried to focus on them.
He felt himself jerk, and something was shoved in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but clamped his teeth on it instead.
His back arched, and something blared shrilly.
And then it faded away again.
0o0o0o0
The baseball glove was back again, pushing the hair off his forehead.
He turned his face towards it, and let the current pull him under.
0o0o0o0
It looked like his dad… the shirt was a peach one he recognized. But why was he talking to Tiger Woods?
And why couldn't he stay awake long enough to get an autograph?
0o0o0o0
The floaty sensation from before had mostly left him. His body felt slightly cooler, and, best of all, his leg didn't hurt… much. He tried to move his head, but stopped when a hand touched his brow.
"Thank God… it's finally going down…"
He thought he recognized the voice… but he just wasn't sure.
He felt heavy weights dragging at his limbs. He started to open his eyes, wanting to see the person next to him… needing to see the person next to him.
But the weights pulled him under.
With hardly a protest, he sank into oblivion.
0o0o0o0
Some unknown hours later, Shawn awoke again.
Something beeped steadily beside him, and he was relived that his mind was actually able to identify the sound. Small fragments tickled at the back of his mind from the previous… hours? Days? He had a vague memory of something hot and thick crushing him… and something brushing across his head.
His mouth felt sticky, and when he swallowed, he grimaced at the sore throat.
Something moved in the room, and a rough palm smoothed his forehead.
"Hey kid."
He blinked, grateful when his eyes obeyed. The fuzzy edges faded quickly, and the form of his father took shape next to him.
"About time… I was starting to think we'd have to sell your apartment."
He frowned, the emotion behind the voice didn't mesh with the jibe.
His father no doubt recognized his expression of bafflement as he spoke again. "Shawn, you've been mostly unconscious for over a week."
He'd been what now…?
He forced a dry chuckle, his voice high-pitched and unsteady as he responded. "Oh great… you know what this means? I missed Ultimate Fight night."
His father didn't smile. Instead, he sat heavily in a chair next to the bed and rubbed at the flesh between his eyes. "Look, Shawn, I don't know if you realize it… but you almost died… twice."
Shawn swallowed, looking down at his blanket. Something flickered in his mind… rapid beeping, feeling his body go stiff, and… and the rest was just not there.
He shook away the memory, not liking the implications. Then something else flitted through his mind, and he turned back to his father in puzzlement. "Dad… I know you think I'm out to lunch… and I may have just hallucinated it… but were you asking Tiger Woods to show you his backswing at any point?"
Henry, unexpectedly, barked with laughter. "Shawn, that was Gus… I was telling him about a trip I was planning to go bass fishing… Tiger Woods…. He's going to like that…"
Shawn closed his eyes. "Of course, why talk golf when you can discuss the finer points of out-witting slime-coated water dwellers."
Henry's smile faded, and he looked down at his folded hands. "Look, Shawn… I know that…"
Hunching his shoulders, Shawn shook his head. "Dad, you are not allowed to bring up deep and intense discussions when I'm trapped in a bed in a semi-inebriated state. It's cheating."
For a horrifying second, it looked like Henry was debating the issue. Then, with an indulgent smile, he nodded. "Fine… I'll let you win this time, but only because the game is about to come on. But you and I are going to talk about this once you're out of here."
Shawn nodded. "Not a chance."
Flipping on the room TV, Henry scrolled until he found a station broadcasting hockey.
Shawn sighed heavily. With any luck, he'd pass out before the hat trick.
0o0o0o0
Six Months Later
Shawn couldn't repress his grin. Even Gus was smiling, having finally stopped bitching about the loss of the Psychmobile. Though, that was probably due to the Chief helping him obtain a new Psychmobile… in spite of the foot dragging from the pharmaceutical company where he insisted on remaining employed.
They were standing in a parking lot… former home of the Psych Detective Agency… to take part in the unveiling of their brand new office- courtesy of the city of Santa Barbara- for their participation in implicating Alexander Hutchins. The client list was just the tip of a very large iceburg. There had been dozens of documents stashed throughout Mandy's house. Also, there had been the fact that he'd been involved with Henry's kidnapping… a former, and well respected member, of the SBPD.
He'd be lucky if he still had teeth by the time he could petition for parole.
The sun beat down warmly, reflecting off tinted car windows, eyeglass frames, and the glittered lettering on a large banner draped over the new office door that read, The City of Santa Barbara and the SBPD Thank Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster!
A large crowd had gathered in the lot, most of them faces he recognized, and some looked like people who were just hoping to get on the local news. He couldn't blame them… he'd been known to do the same. Though usually a lot more actively…
Chief Vick was standing at a podium, impeccably dressed, with a small microphone clipped to her lapel. Beside her stood several members of the SBPD, all in uniform. Amongst them were Lassy and Jules- whom, he noted, looked adorable in cop gear.
The Chief was wrapping up her speech, and Shawn realized he probably could have paid closer attention. No matter, he was certain he'd be hearing it repeatedly in the next several weeks… both Gus and his father possessed TIVO. And then she was walking towards him, a pair of giant gold scissors in her hand. Grinning, she handed them to him.
"Would you please do the honors?"
Handing her his cane, both he and Gus each took half of the scissors.
"Okay dude, one smooth motion…"
"I know how to use scissors Shawn!"
The ribbon fell away, and the crowd roared in applause. Someone released balloons, and the air was filled with rising green and white globes. Several cameras flashed as the two men waved to the media.
After a moment, holding Gus's arm for balance, Shawn leaned in close to his friend; whispering loudly in the pandemonium. His expression was serious, and he wanted to get this asked before Vick approached them again. The din was thunderous, but he was sure Gus could hear him. With a heavy breath, twisting his fingers around the metal in his hands, he swallowed his anxiety and plunged ahead.
"Hey, you think they'll let us keep the scissors?"
-END-