"Shawn Spencer, please report to the Principal's office."

Shawn groaned as the announcement came over the school PA. His mind quickly began to run over the last few days, trying to figure out which infraction he was about to be nailed on. As far as he could remember, he hadn't done anything that bad…

A few students standing around "ooooed" and "awwwwed" at him as he slowly closed his locker door and began the long march up the hallway to the office, still unable to figure out what crime he had committed this time.

He froze when he stepped into Mr. Klein's office and saw the Principal sitting behind his desk, talking to a uniformed police officer. He knew he hadn't done anything bad enough to get arrested…

"I didn't do it!" He said immediately, his eyes wide in terror.

Mr. Klein and the officer looked up. Shawn recognized the young man as one of the Rookies from his dad's precinct…Dan?...Dave?... He couldn't remember his name, but Shawn knew he'd already beaten him a few times at poker.

But that's not a crime…is it?

"You didn't do what?" Mr. Klein asked, blinking in surprise.

"I don't know!" Shawn answered, not taking his eyes off the cop as he slid into his usual chair. "But whatever it is, I have an alibi!"

"No, Shawn…you're not in trouble." Mr. Klein assured him, shaking his head gently.

"Oh, good." Shawn sighed, relieved that he'd somehow gotten away with…whatever it was he had done.

"It's about your dad," Mr. Klein continued hesitantly, leaning over his desk.

"What did he say I did?"

"Nothing. Shawn--"

"Because I didn't do it!"

"Shawn! Listen." Mr. Klein ordered quietly, his tone unexpectedly grave and sympathetic.

Suddenly, Shawn realized what was happening.

He felt all the blood draining from his face as his eyes darted back and forth between the principal and the silent, somber officer standing next to him.

"What happened to my dad?" He asked quietly, barely able to get the words out through the lump that was forming in his throat.

"He's in the hospital, Shawn." Mr. Klein told him, gesturing at Dan or Dave or whatever his name was…Shawn didn't care anymore. "Officer Marino is going to take you over there now."

"But what happened?" Shawn demanded again, his fists tightening.

Officer Marino cleared his throat.

"There was a robbery earlier today." He said, almost hesitantly. "At a store. Your dad went in…he got the hostages out, but he got shot. Twice."

The floor suddenly dropped out from underneath Shawn as every nightmare he'd ever had suddenly came screaming to life. He could feel himself plummeting…free-falling into the basement at a thousand miles per hour…and he knew that nothing was going to catch him.

Nothing was going to break the fall this time.

He didn't hear another word either of them said to him, though that didn't stop them from talking.

But none of their words mattered.

Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

When Shawn and Officer Marino arrived at the hospital, Henry was still in surgery. Shawn waited helplessly in the Emergency Room waiting area for someone to tell him what was going on, but none of the doctors or nurses told him anything, though they did pester him with a thousand stupid, pointless questions.

Was him Mom around?

Where was she?

Did he have any friends they could call to stay with him until she got there?

No, he told them at least a hundred times.

His mom wasn't around.

She was in San Francisco.

She was on her way, but wouldn't get there until late that night.

No, he didn't have any friends to call.

Gus was away at Disneyland.

No, he didn't want anything to eat.

No, he didn't want to color, though they brought him crayons and a coloring book, anyway.

He set the cup of crayons on the waiting room table, studying it until he could close his eyes and see each color and where it was perfectly in his mind. Then, he dumped them out, mixed them up, and did it again.

Officer Marino watched him silently.

"You know, Kid. Some people color with crayons." He mumbled after the fiftieth round.

Shawn ignored him, continuing to play his game as if the world would end if he stopped even for a moment.

Finally, the doctor came out to talk to him.

"Is your mom here yet?" He asked.

Shawn shook his head.

"No. What's going on? Is my dad okay?"

The doctor hesitated, looking up at the ceiling.

"We don't usually talk to kids…"

Shawn scowled at him.

"I'm not a kid! I'm thirteen! Tell me what the hell is going on with my dad!" He shouted, his face turning red as he finally released all the emotions he had spent the last four or five hours doing his best to bottle up.

The doctor blinked at him in surprise. He sighed and sat down, meeting Shawn's furious eyes evenly.

"Okay, Shawn. Do you want the truth?" He asked.

Shawn nodded.

"Yes!"

"Your dad lost a lot of blood and one of his lungs collapsed. He's still unconscious, but they got all the fragments out of his chest. If he makes it through the night, he'll probably pull through. But we won't know anything for sure until tomorrow. It all depends on whether or not he makes it through the night."

Shawn could feel the floor swaying again, threatening to drop out from underneath him. He closed his eyes tightly and nodded.

"Okay." He said hoarsely, trying to sound like the adult he had just claimed to be.

But, suddenly, he didn't feel like an adult.

He felt like the scared little kid he secretly knew he was.

"He's in ICU. Do you want to go up and see him?" The doctor asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

The doctor stood up and led Shawn silently through the corridors. With each step, Shawn felt himself growing more and more nauseous.

I don't want to see him…

I don't want to see him…

But he knew he didn't have a choice.

They finally arrived at the room. The doctor hesitated before opening the door.

"You can go in for a few minutes, Shawn, but not for long. Okay?"

"Okay."

The doctor swung the door open and stepped aside to let Shawn enter. For a moment, he almost couldn't do it. For a moment, he wanted to turn around and run away.

But he didn't.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the almost pitch-black room.

"Dad?" he whispered quietly, almost expecting to hear his father's gruff voice answer him.

But, of course, he was met only by silence and the persistent beeping of a heart monitor.

He took another step in. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out the outline of his father's figure in the bed, lying completely still. His chest was rising and falling slowly, undoubtedly aided by the large plastic intubation tube they had inserted into his throat.

Shawn had to bite his lip to keep from crying at the sight. But he knew he couldn't cry. His father…even his unconscious father…would never allow it.

He came up alongside the bed, stopping by Henry's head. He could hear his father breathing now, hollow and mechanical…like Darth Vader…

"Dad…" he whispered again, resting his hands on the metal guardrail.

Henry didn't move at his son's voice.

Shawn had almost expected him to move…

"I didn't do my homework last night, Dad." He said quietly, knowing he had to say something but having absolutely nothing to say. "I didn't do my homework."

He paused, still waiting for his father to wake up…to tell him everything was going to be okay…

"And I bombed a math test yesterday." Shawn continued. "I didn't study at all, even though I told you I did…I lied…"

A single tear began to run down Shawn's cheek, but he quickly swept it away before Henry could detect it.

"So, you have to yell at me, okay?" He told his father, his hand resting on top of Henry's. "You have to ground me and tell me how disappointed you are in me…oh, and there were 21 hats in the emergency room, but not all at once. I was there for four hours."

He pulled up a chair and sat down, the words coming out faster than he could think of them now.

"The first hour, there were eight. Well, eleven if you count those little hat things that surgeons wear. But you wouldn't count those, would you? Are they hats, Dad? Or are they caps? I don't know."

Shawn sniffed quietly, his hand resting on top of Henry's again.

"I don't know if they're hats or caps. You have to tell me, Dad. How am I supposed to know if you don't tell me?"