![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Rating: T
Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Family, Romance, Suspense
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Notes: This was a response to a challenge over at Psychfic. It won the Silver Pineapple for Best Whump (the Boo Boo Award) in the 2008 Psychfic Awards. Also cross-posted at FanFiction.net. (Although I have cleaned it up slightly... mainly just correcting grammatical errors. Nothing too earth-shattering.) Does contain Shules (Shawn/Juliet).
Summary: Shawn's having a really bad day. And it keeps getting worse.
( Part 1 ) | ( Part 2 ) | ( Part 3 ) | ( Part 4 ) | ( Part 5 ) | ( Part 6 ) | ( Part 7 ) | ( Part 8 )
“Now when you get down to the bottom of the shaft, you’ll probably have to untie yourself and hook the rope around Spencer,” Lassiter told the Junior Detective as he and Gus secured the climbing rope around her waist. He looked at her seriously. “He’s not going to be any help when we try to get him back up, that’s for sure. So you’ll be down there for a little while, okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Carlton,” Juliet said with a faint smile. “Let’s just focus on getting Shawn out of there - he’s been down there a lot longer than I will be.”
“Just be careful, O’Hara,” Vick cautioned as the younger woman approached the side of the hole.
“And be careful when you put your feet down on the bottom,” Henry called as he wrapped the rope around his waist. He braced himself and continued, “Judging by the look of this place, it wouldn’t surprise me if the ground is littered with crap. Got it?”
“Got it, sir,” Juliet affirmed. She flashed a reassuring smile at Gus, who looked worried. Shawn had fallen silent again, and they hadn’t been able to rouse him. “He’s gonna be okay, Gus.”
“Oh, I know. If he dies, I’ll find some way to bring him back to life and kill him again,” Gus replied, his voice gruff but quavering slightly. He settled in next to Henry, grabbing firmly onto the rope.
“You guys ready?” Juliet asked as Lassiter and Vick took positions on the rope. When all four of them nodded, she took a deep breath and eased herself over the side.
“Shawn? Shawn, I’m coming down,” she called as she was slowly lowered. She worked at breathing through her mouth to suppress the gag reflex.
“Jules? Why now? This isn’t the best time - I kinda need to take a shower,” came a faint reply a moment later.
Juliet sighed in relief. Shawn was awake again - that was good. “Yeah, that’s okay, I have a feeling I need one, too!” she called brightly, glancing into a hole in the side of the wall. The stench that came out of it was almost overpowering. She turned slightly to get away from the smell, aiming her flashlight downwards as she dropped another few feet..
“Owwoww, Jules,” the psychic whined feebly as the light shone into his eyes, raising a feeble hand to attempt and block the light.
“Sorry,” Juliet said apologetically, quickly jerking the beam to the side. “How’re you feeling?”
“Sick,” Shawn replied faintly, his head dropping back limply against the wall. “Maybe y’ should come back ‘nuther time.”
“No, that’s okay, I still wanna come see you. I wanna make you feel better,” Juliet told him, worry edging into her voice.
“M’kay,” came the slurred reply.
“How close are you, O’Hara?” Lassiter suddenly called loudly.
“Another six feet or so!” Juliet called back.
“Lassie? Wha’s he doin’ here?” Shawn asked, puzzled. Juliet saw his head move slightly from side-to-side, as if he were looking for the detective. “Where’s ‘e at?”
“He’s up top, Shawn,” Juliet said patiently.
“Up top? Whazzat mean?”
Juliet’s eyes widened as she splashed down. She wrinkled her nose in disgust briefly at the feeling of the muck creeping up her pant legs. And these were my best dress pants, she thought for a moment, wedging the flashlight into the wall so the beam fell on Shawn before moving to crouch next to him. “You fell down a hole, Shawn,” she said, placing a hand against his forehead. She could feel the heat radiating from his body a few inches away. This is not good.
“Wha’? No, I didn’ - someone pushed me,” Shawn protested, his glazed hazel eyes flashing with frustration.
“You’re right, Shawn. Do you remember who pushed you?” Juliet asked encouragingly, moving her hand to rub away some of the mud caked on his right cheek.
Shawn leaned into her touch. “Mmm. Feels good,” he whispered faintly, his eyes sliding shut.
“Shawn? Shawn! Focus, okay?” Juliet urged, shaking his head slightly. Shawn forced his eyes open. “Do you remember who pushed you into this hole?”
Shawn’s muddy forehead wrinkled as he concentrated for a moment. “O’Riley,” he said finally.
“Good, good, you remember,” Juliet sighed.
“How’s it looking, Juliet?” Gus called.
“Gus!” Shawn exclaimed excitedly, looking up. “You’re back!”
“Hey, Shawn,” Gus replied, barely suppressing the concern in his voice. Juliet stood and looked up at Gus, Henry, Vick, and Lassiter, who had gathered around the hole again. All of their flashlights focused down on her and Shawn, and she had to raise a hand to block the light from her eyes.
“He’s burning up with fever. He seems to be semi-aware of his surroundings,” she told them. “He remembers O’Riley is the one who put him down here, anyway.”
“Let’s hurry up and get him out of there, then,” Vick ordered. Juliet nodded and turned back to Shawn, who had closed his eyes again.
“Shawn? Shawn, wake up,” the blonde urged, shaking his shoulder.
Shawn sat up with a yelp, his eyes wide with pain as he hurriedly brushed Juliet’s hand away. “Stop, tha’ hurts!” he complained.
“Sorry, sorry!” Juliet squeaked. She tentatively reached out with her hands again. Shawn shifted as if trying to get away, although he didn’t get very far. “I just wanna see how bad it is, okay? I’ll try not to hurt you,” she coaxed.
Shawn glared at her for a moment longer before relaxing and letting her hands gently brush his shoulder. “If you were Lassie, I wouldn’t’ve believed ya,” he muttered with a faint smirk.
“I heard that, Spencer!” Lassiter called. Juliet noted that there was the slightest hint of amusement in the older man’s tone - not that he’d ever admit it.
Her faint smile turned into a frown as she gently probed Shawn’s shoulder. She could feel the swelling through his muddy polo, as well as the heat from his fever. Shawn hissed in pain, closing his eyes. “He messed up his shoulder pretty bad - maybe a dislocation, or possibly even broken,” Juliet called to those at the top of the hole. “Shawn, where else does it hurt?” she added in a softer tone to the psychic, ignoring Henry’s muttered exclamations.
“Leg,” Shawn replied in whisper, letting his eyes slide open again.
“Did you break it?” Juliet asked, searching for his leg under the water.
Shawn grabbed her hand with his left hand. Juliet’s eyes widened as he guided her hand down his right thigh. She could feel heat through the denim, and suddenly her fingers came into contact with rough metal. Her face blanched and her mouth dropped open as she plunged her other hand under the water to feel the object and the leg around it. “Oh my gosh - no wonder you said the pole wouldn’t let you stand!” she breathed in horror, working hard to suppress the lunch that was threatening to reappear.
At the top of the cistern, they heard her faint exclamation and all looked at her worriedly. “Juliet? Juliet, what’s wrong?” Henry called, his voice thick with worry.
Juliet was silent for a moment as she felt the underside of Shawn’s thigh. The psychic let out a low moan of pain. “There’s a piece of metal in his thigh. I think it went straight through,” she finally replied in a choked voice.
Gus nearly fell forward as his arms started giving out. Vick gasped, her face looking horrified, as Lassiter and Henry both growled, “Damn it!”
“It’s pretty bad, guys,” Juliet continued. “I don’t think it hit any major arteries, but it’s pretty big. Shawn!” she added in a stern voice as the pseudo-psychic’s head slumped forward.
“‘M’wake!” Shawn mumbled in surprise, his eyes flying open as his head jerked up. He immediately winced, swaying slightly where he sat.
“Okay, Shawn, listen to me. I’m gonna take this rope and tie it around your waist, got it? We’re gonna get you out of this miserable hole,” Juliet told him briskly, moving to untie the rope around her waist.
“Y' don' have ta. ‘S’not bad anymore,” Shawn replied, his words slurred. He looked at her, his eyes glazed but serious. “You’re here - can’t be all bad, right?”
Juliet’s hands froze for a brief moment. She flashed him a faint smile, the lump in her throat preventing her from being able to speak, and began working on the rope again. Even in this kind of situation, Shawn could still make her - Damn it, O’Hara, get a grip - he’s half-delusional! she scolded herself, noticing her trembling hands.
“Whoa!” Lassiter suddenly exclaimed from up above. Both Juliet and Shawn looked up and saw Henry and Vick grabbing at some flailing arms.
“Is everything okay?” Juliet called, concerned.
“Some more of the ground gave way up here. The lid of the cistern next to this one fell in,” Gus explained.
“Pick it up, O’Hara,” Lassiter barked, his voice sounding slightly strained as his face reappeared. “The sooner we can get away from this hell hole, the better!”
“Yes, sir!” Juliet called back, finally getting the rope untied. She plunged her hands under the muck and began getting the rope wrapped around Shawn’s waist.
“Jules?” Shawn whispered suddenly, his voice sounding panicked.
Juliet froze, looking up at his face. “What?” she murmured.
Shawn kept his gaze locked at a spot over her shoulder. “The wall’s bulgin’ again,” he replied.
Juliet’s eyebrows merged in confusion. “What?” she asked, twisting around and scanning the wall.
Her frantic gaze came to rest on a bulge that had formed around the flashlight - a bulge that seemed to be growing at an alarming rate. “What the-”
Suddenly, all hell seemed to break loose. Up at the top of the cistern, the others watched in horror as the lower half of the wall separating the two cisterns gave way. Filthy water rushed in, quickly engulfing both Juliet and Shawn. Juliet’s frantic scream was cut off as the water went above their heads.
“Quick, pull!” Henry bellowed, tossing his flashlight to the ground and leaning back on the rope for all he was worth. The others quickly snapped out of their horrified daze and copied his movements. The rope was slack for a moment, then became tight.
Down below, Juliet had latched her arms around Shawn’s chest. His left arm snaked around her back almost reflexively, although his right arm still hung uselessly at his side. As the water covered both of them completely, Juliet tried to kick off of the bottom, but the mud from the wall had mixed in with the sludge. Through the water, Juliet could hear it squelching as it pulled at her and Shawn, as if it were protesting the loss of potential victims.
Then something rubbed against her arm, and Juliet vaguely realized that the rope she had started tying around Shawn was being pulled tight. She felt the psychic tense noticeably in her arms as the rope jerked again. Her lungs were starting to ache, and she kept trying to force her way out of the mud.
Then, with one large squelch, they were jerked free. Juliet knew immediately, however, that something was terribly wrong with Shawn. He arched up against her, his entire body going rigid. He let out a scream that was earsplitting, even with the muck dampening the sound. There was another jerk on the rope, harder this time, as Shawn’s body convulsed twice, then went limp. His arm slid from her back, and she had to tighten her grip to keep from getting separated from him.
Juliet felt her heart speed up with horror. The rope around Shawn’s waist was coming undone - she could feel it slithering past her arm. The psychic had become dead weight in her arms, and she realized that he was drowning in the muck. Her hand shot out and latched around the rope automatically as she wrapped her legs around the limp man's waist, trying to keep a hold on him. There was another tug, and Juliet’s head finally broke the surface.
The first gulp of air also had a good mouthful of muck with it, and she began choking and coughing. She became aware of a voice yelling at her. “O’Hara! Spencer! Shawn! Juliet! SOMEBODY SAY SOMETHING!” Vick screamed, no longer able to see what was going on.
“Pull us up! He’s d-drowning!” Juliet coughed. The others obeyed, and with another tug Shawn’s head broke up through the mud. There was no sound of coughing or gasping, however - the psychic was still a dead weight. “Shawn!” she sobbed as the rope jerked again.
“Juliet, what happened? We heard a scream, and-” Gus cut off, his voice thick with emotion.
“I don’t know!” Juliet replied tearfully, glancing up. She noticed with some shock that they were over halfway to the top. Then her legs shifted against Shawn’s thighs, and she realized the problem. “Oh no - the pole - it got ripped out of his leg!” she screamed.
“WHAT?” Henry bellowed, panicked. He yanked back as hard as he could on the rope. Lassiter threw himself forward and grabbed the younger woman’s arms, which were now in reach. Juliet tightened her legs around Shawn’s waist as the Head Detective pulled her up and over the lip of the cistern.
Gus reached over and grabbed Shawn’s belt, yanking him onto solid ground. He frantically flipped his best friend over onto his back as Henry threw himself down on his knees on Shawn’s other side. There was a ripping sound, and Vick was suddenly on her knees, her penlight in her mouth, frantically wrapping a sleeve of her suit jacket around the gaping hole in the psychic’s leg. The hole was jagged, and it was gushing blood. “This isn’t good,” she muttered around the penlight, securing the sleeve tightly before wrapping the rest of the jacket over it.
“We gotta get him breathing!” Gus man exclaimed, tipping Shawn’s head back and pointing a flashlight at his face. He stuck a finger in Shawn’s mouth, getting the mud out of the pseudo-psychic’s mouth. Henry began compressing Shawn’s chest, his features tight with fear.
Lassiter knelt down next to his partner. “You okay?” he asked, his eyes squinted shut and his mouth in a thin line as he quickly examined the blonde with his flashlight. Juliet was covered with a solid layer of brown water, making her hair a bedraggled mess. She was shivering in her sopping wet clothes. “O’Hara? O’Hara. Juliet!” the older man barked finally.
Juliet locked her blue-gray eyes with Lassiter’s deep blue ones. She opened her mouth, then closed it soundlessly, nodding. Lassiter noticed, with extreme discomfort, that the Junior Detective’s eyes were beginning to well with tears. He hesitated, then hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.
Juliet blinked, surprised, then flashed him a grateful but watery smile before locking her gaze back on Gus and Henry as they worked on Shawn, still struggling to get him to breathe. Lassiter turned, his face somber as he stared at the limp psychic.
“Come on, kiddo, breathe!” Henry grunted, his eyes misty as he paused to let Gus blow air into Shawn’s lungs.
“Don’t do this, Shawn, please, don’t,” the younger man begged, tears silently streaming down his face as the elder Spencer started compressions again.
Suddenly Shawn’s back arched slightly, and stream of muck spewed out of his mouth. Gus immediately turned Shawn’s head to the side as Shawn started coughing up more of the muck. On the heels of the sludge came vomit as Shawn’s stomach tried to purge itself of all of the mud it had acquired. Henry sighed in relief, and Vick slumped forward, the tension flooding from her.
After a long moment, the coughing died down, leaving Shawn wheezing for breath. Henry closer to his son, threading a hand through his filthy, ratty hair. “Easy, son, just take it easy,” he murmured soothingly.
Shawn cracked his eyes open. “D-Dad?” The word came out as a throaty breath.
Henry smiled faintly, gently rubbing Shawn’s scalp. “Yeah, Shawn, it’s me.”
“Jules?”
“Right here, Shawn,” Juliet called, scrambling forward so that she could look at him. Henry glanced up at her. Her face was completely caked in mud, except for two tear tracks down her cheeks.
Shawn grinned faintly. “Good,” he breathed. Then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he went limp again.
“Shawn? Shawn!” Gus called, grabbing his friend’s wrist. He could feel a faint rapid pulse. He silently counted for ten seconds, then multiplied the number by six, and his face paled. “His heart rate’s practically through the roof!”
“His breathing’s not great, either,” Henry said, shrugging off his jacket and covering his son’s upper torso with it.
“Where the hell are those paramedics?” Lassiter growled, taking off his own coat and laying it on top of Henry’s. Gus put his coat on Shawn’s legs, noting the blood-soaked coat around his friend’s leg with worry.
They all glanced up as they heard sirens in the distance. “Oh, thank goodness,” Vick breathed in relief, getting to her feet. “I’ll direct them over here,” she added as she ran back to where they had parked.
Juliet grabbed Shawn’s limp hand. It was clammy and covered with muck, but she held on tightly. “Hang on, Shawn. Please,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes again. “Please.”
tbc...
no subject
no subject
no subject
That was so tense and so well written! Loved it.
WOW!
more please
no subject