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moogsthewriter) wrote2009-02-27 09:34 am
Ya Had a Bad Day (11/12)
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).
Notes the second: I did not originate the idea of Shawn, Gus, and Henry knowing sign language - that was VampKira over at Psychfic.
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 ) | ( Part 9 ) | ( Part 10 )
Blackness.
All around him. Why was it so black?
Pain. There was pain, too. Lots and lots. Roaring in his ears, drowning out all of the other sounds, blocking out every other sense. Then a sharp pang in his chest, and suddenly the blackness became blindingly white.
More pain. Pain in his chest. Lungs. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t hardly think. Only feel. Pain was existence. Pain was bad.
Pressure. A soothing pressure on his scalp. Familiar, comforting. And a voice. There was a voice with the pressure. A voice he knew. Needed to see - had to hear the voice.
“Dad?”
More pain, this time in his throat. But the soothing voice was back, and yes, it was him. Bits and pieces of memories returned, and another name passed through his lips.
“Jules?”
Then song. No, not song, but a voice that at the moment sounded like one. She was there. Safe.
“Good.”
He could let go now. Needed the blackness. Where was the black? Must be close. The roaring in his ears was coming back. Not as loud. Or maybe louder. He couldn’t remember.
Panicked voices with muffled words. Someone was in trouble. He vaguely wondered who. Him? Probably. Usually was. He didn’t want them to worry. But he needed to return to blackness. To escape the pain.
Then the song-voice was back. Pleading to hang on. He wanted to. Despite the pain, he wanted to. For that voice, he would do anything. But he couldn’t anymore. Maybe later. But not now.
Blackness returned. Pain ebbed. He floated. Like he was on a wave. Or flying. Or something. He wasn’t really sure. Peace. There was peace. That he knew.
Time passed. How much? He didn’t know. Moments… minutes… millennia… it didn’t really matter. Not any more. As long as pain was gone. Time didn’t matter to him.
But then it came back. Violently. Angrily. Pain so bad he felt like dying. Was he? Or was he already dead? Could there be pain if he was dead?
With the new pain came the voice. And the pressure on his head. It hurt, but not as bad. Almost felt good. He tried focusing on the touch, tried blocking out pain.
The voice wanted painkillers. Why? Didn’t the voice know he was in pain? Didn’t it care? He tried to say something. Had to say something. Needed relief. What was blocking his throat? Relief. Where was relief? Did the voice understand?
It did. It was soothing again. Calming. Murmuring reassurances. They didn’t make sense, but he still felt comforted.
The pain receded gradually. He let his mind drift, content with hearing the voice. “It’s gonna be okay, son. You’re gonna be fine.”
Blackness.
*****
“…woke up briefly yesterday when they were changing the bandages. He was in a lot of pain, so they gave him some more morphine. He should be waking up any time now.”
Why’s Dad talking so quietly? Shawn Spencer wondered faintly as he regained consciousness. He blinked… or tried to. His eyelids didn’t seem to be cooperating at the moment. He tried to focus his ears, but became even more puzzled when he heard a steady beep and a mechanic whoosh. What had happened?
“Thank goodness,” a female voice sighed in relief. “It’s about time we got some good news.”
“No kidding,” another voice cut in, his voice also quiet.
Gus? Jules? Why were they in his room watching him sleep? That was flat-out creepy. Not to mention his dad being there, too. Since when did his dad watch him sleep?
Shawn tried to say something, since he still couldn’t get his eyelids to raise up. Panic surged like a growing bubble inside him when he felt something sticking down his throat - something that was not supposed to be there. Then his gag reflex started going, and he tried to raise his arms to get it out, but his arms were just as responsive as his eyelids, which meant they weren’t, and the beeping was getting faster and louder, and -
“Shawn! Calm down!”
Henry’s rough voice cut through the haze, causing Shawn to freeze for a moment as several hands pressed down on his left arm. Wait, why couldn’t he move his right arm? And his leg - why did his leg ache? And his chest was starting to throb. What was going on? The panic started to resurface, drowning out Juliet’s worried cries and Gus’ pleadings.
“Shawn, look at me, son. Open your eyes.”
There was his dad again. In his no-nonsense voice. The voice that had told him countless times to close his eyes was now ordering him to open them. How ironic was that? “Shawn.”
Was Shawn going crazy, or was there blatant worry in his father’s voice? Something must be wrong if he could hear that. He had to see where he was. He had to see what was going on. He focused all of his energy into his eyelids, and after another moment, light and blurred images streamed in. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the picture up.
Three faces hovered above him. Three familiar, worried faces. He tried to say something, but that thing was still blocking his throat. He needed it out - had to get it out. He was going to choke to death and they were going to stand by and let him? What was happening?
“Shawn, calm down,” Juliet said soothingly. “You’re on a respirator. It’s helping you breathe.”
Shawn blinked in surprise, his eyes flicking to each face, finally landing on his father. “It’s alright, kiddo,” Henry told him. “You’re in the hospital.”
Shawn’s eyebrows furrowed. He slid his arm out from under Gus’ and Juliet’s hands and frantically began signing. He winced in pain as he jerked his right shoulder. This is difficult with only one hand, he thought vaguely, modifying his signs slightly.
What happened?
“You were kidnapped from the police station and tossed in a pit,” Gus replied, his eyes recognizing the signs faster than Henry’s could. Shawn’s disconcerted gaze shifted over to his best friend. Yes, Gus would know the signs. Henry may have taught them to Shawn, but Gus used them more in high school. Always wanted to stay out of trouble, which meant they needed a creative way to talk during class. “Do you remember?” Gus asked, his dark eyes wide
Shawn blinked, trying to make his foggy brain work. Images started coming back to him. Flashes of memory - falling down; the pole in his leg; Juliet trying to rescue him; the water climbing over their heads…
His eyes shot to Juliet’s face. She stared, slightly confused, as he tried to sign something to her.
“She’s fine, Shawn,” Henry cut in, recognizing the signs. Juliet nodded immediately, smiling.
Shawn sighed in relief, sinking back into his pillows slightly. Out.
“You want us to leave?” Gus asked, confused.
Shawn shook his head slightly, then repeated, Out. He pointed at the ventilator tube.
“He wants the tube out,” Juliet clarified, even as Henry moved to the door to flag down a nurse. Shawn sighed again, letting his eyes slide shut.
“Shawn, I don’t think they’re gonna take it out if you fall asleep again,” Gus cut in, causing Shawn’s eyes to fly back open.
I’m awake!
Gus chuckled. “Yeah, I figured you would be.”
Twenty minutes later, the ventilator was gone, the bed was raised up, an oxygen mask dangled under Shawn’s chin, and Henry was spoon-feeding him some ice chips. “Thanks,” Shawn whispered breathily around the ice chip. His throat burned, but at least the tube was out. “Wha’s wrong with me?”
“Besides the normal?” Gus asked, his face serious, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Shawn shot him a look.
“You were fighting a pretty bad case of sepsis,” Henry told him softly, giving him another few ice chips. Shawn noticed the mischievous look in Gus’ eyes disappear immediately. “That pit screwed you up pretty badly.”
“How badly?” Shawn asked, his voice sounding a little stronger.
“Broken collarbone, broken arm, fractured both bones in your lower leg, torn ACL, stretched PCL, bruised ribs, dislocated shoulder, small concussion, sliced arm,” Henry said tonelessly. “Not to mention that hole in your thigh. All on your right side. And the sepsis almost killed you, kid.”
Juliet stared at Henry like he had grown another head; Gus looked faintly surprised at the elder Spencer; Shawn, however, seemed unfazed by his father’s tactless speech. “106 fever, two seizures, minor heart attack-”
That last one made Shawn blink. “Heart attack?”
“Very minor, but yeah. Heart attack,” Henry replied seriously, giving Shawn another spoonful of ice. “You were on dialysis up until yesterday, kid. You’ve gone through enough different drugs to supply a small country. They didn’t think you were gonna make it.”
“Showed them,” Shawn muttered, a faint smirk pulling at his lips.
Gus and Henry snorted while Juliet laughed. “Yeah, you did,” the blonde said, her eyes shining. “I’d better head back to the station - spread the good news,” she added, standing straight.
“I’ll drop you off,” Gus offered. “No sense in making you pay for a cab. I’ll be back later, okay, Shawn?”
“M’kay, dude,” Shawn replied, waving a little with his free hand. “See ya, Jules.”
“Bye, Shawn. I’m glad you’re awake,” Juliet replied with a grin as she headed out the door.
“Hey, Gus,” Shawn called, causing his friend to pause mid-stride on his way out.
“Yeah?”
Shawn grinned. “Get me a smoothie?”
Gus rolled his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said exasperatedly, failing to hide a grin. “See ya.”
And just like that, Shawn was left in a silent room with his father. He shifted on the bed slightly as Henry set the cup and plastic spoon aside. After a long, rather uncomfortable moment, Henry croaked, “You scared me to death.”
“Sorry,” Shawn whispered back, fiddling with the blankets under his left hand. “Um… how long was I out?”
“Nine days.”
Shawn’s eyes opened wide as he looked at his father. He noticed that Henry looked tired and wan. The lines on his face had been carved deeper, and there were some serious bags under his eyes. “When’s the last time you got more than three hours of sleep at a time?” he demanded softly.
Henry smirked. “Ten days ago,” he replied truthfully.
“That bad?”
“That bad,” Henry told him. He paused, as if deciding whether or not to say something, before continuing slowly, “I really thought I was going to lose you.”
“Dad-”
“Just hear me out a sec, will ya?” Henry sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbly face. “When I saw you down in that pit, I just - and then the first time I saw you after we got you in the hospital - I thought… I know I never say it, but-”
“Dad, you don’t have to say it,” Shawn cut in. “I already know. Psychic, remember?” he added with a smirk, tapping at his temple.
Henry snorted. “Don’t give me that load of bull, kid,” he shot back. Shawn merely grinned. Henry shook his head, and his face sobered as he stared at his son. The grin slowly slid off the younger’s face. “Shawn, I-”
“Knock, knock,” a voice suddenly called. Shawn glanced up and saw a grayed head peering into the room. “Glad to hear you’re finally awake, Shawn,” the man greeted, his green eyes twinkling as he stepped into the room. “You gave us all quite a scare. I’m Dr. Rieux.”
Shawn’s eyes widened. “I’m not gonna catch the plague, am I?” he asked, the smile at the corner of his mouth canceling out the effect of the fearful tone.
“No, I doubt it,” Rieux laughed. He paused thoughtfully and said, “Although that would be an incredible coincidence, wouldn’t it? Almost ironic.” His expression sobered a bit when he drew up to the bed. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to test out your leg, son. We need to see if you’ve suffered any nerve damage.”
He gently pulled the sheet aside to reveal Shawn’s heavily bandaged leg. He had a cast from just below his knee to his ankle, and his thigh was swathed in bandages. Shawn tensed as Rieux gently placed his hands on the cast. “Are you ready?”
Shawn opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly felt something gripping his left hand. He glanced over and saw his father holding his hand, looking at him encouragingly. “You can do this, Shawn. Just focus.”
Shawn nodded. “I’m ready.”
Rieux began manipulating Shawn’s leg, trying to see how well he could use the muscles. He didn’t move it much, both for fear of ripping the stitches as well as jostling the broken bones. But even the slight movement sent fiery waves of pain racing up Shawn’s leg. The younger Spencer clenched his teeth and squeezed his father’s hand, determined not to cry out in pain. One whimper squeaked past his lips, and Henry squeezed Shawn’s hand, amazed at the strength in the hand squeezing back. He was even more amazed that Shawn could move his leg when Rieux told him to.
At long last, Rieux eased Shawn’s leg back down on the bed. “I’m sorry about that,” the elderly doctor apologized, readjusting the blankets as Shawn panted softly. “But the fact you’re in such pain is actually a pretty good sign. That means the pole didn’t affect your nerve endings too badly. I can’t imagine you’ll get away without a little damage, but I think you’ll make a great recovery. Would you like some medication?” he asked, his green eyes full of concern.
Shawn swallowed and let out a shaky breath. “Y-yes, please,” he breathed, slowly releasing his grip on his father’s hand. Henry let his hand drop into his lap, slowly flexing his fingers to get blood back into the tips, his forehead wrinkled faintly in worry. Shawn had to be in a lot of pain to even begin considering taking an aspirin. The fact he had agreed so willingly to medication was an indication of how much pain he was in at the moment.
“I’ll be back soon,” Rieux said gently, shuffling out of the room.
Silence fell over the pair. “Sorry about your hand,” Shawn muttered, his voice raspy.
Henry shrugged, grabbing the cup with the melting ice chips. “Don’t worry about it, kid,” he replied, holding out the spoon. Shawn shot him a grateful look as he accepted the mouthful of ice. “But I will admit, your grip’s not half bad.”
“‘Specially since I jus’ wo’ up from a coma, ri’?” Shawn asked cheekily around the ice in his mouth. Henry nodded, stirring the ice with the spoon. Shawn tipped his head slightly to the side as he watched his father stare at the steadily melting ice. He swallowed and said softly, “Dad, go home.”
Henry’s head shot up. “I mean it. I’m gonna be fine. You need sleep,” Shawn continued, relaxing back against the pillows.
Henry was silent as he looked at Shawn in the eyes. Finally, he declared simply, “One of these days, you’ll have to tell me what happened in Mexico.”
Shawn stared at him blankly for a moment. Finally he chuckled and was about to reply when Rieux reentered the room with a small paper cup that rattled with pills inside. “Here you go,” he said cheerily, handing Shawn the cup. Shawn immediately tipped the cup back into his mouth and swallowed the pills dry, then washed them down with the cup of water Rieux was offering. “I’ll check back in a couple of hours, okay, Shawn?”
“M’kay,” Shawn replied, his eyes already starting to droop shut. Rieux smiled, nodded at Henry, and left the room once more.
“I’ll leave once you're asleep. Okay?” Henry said before Shawn could open his mouth. Shawn blinked slowly and nodded as the words registered. Those have to be the fastest-working painkillers I’ve ever seen, Henry thought.
“Thanks, Dad,” Shawn murmured, burrowing deeper into his pillows and letting his eyes slide shut. “An’ I can’t talk about Mexico. What happens in Mex’co stays in Mex’co.”
Henry smiled, grabbing his hand once more. “Go to sleep. Gus should be here when you wake up,” he replied, giving Shawn’s hand a gentle squeeze. Shawn didn’t reply; his breathing was already deep and heavy. Henry gave his hand one final squeeze and pulled the oxygen mask over Shawn’s face before standing and stretching. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and moved toward the door.
“Love ya, Dad.”
Henry froze, then turned back to face the bed at the quiet, muffled voice. Shawn’s eyes were cracked just the slightest bit, and under the clear plastic mask, a small smile curved the corner of his lip. The elder Spencer swallowed around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat, blinking rapidly, and replied, “Love you too, Shawn.”
Shawn sighed contentedly and fell into a deep sleep. Henry watched him for another minute or so before quietly closing the door. As he walked down the hall, he breathed a silent prayer of thanks, wiping at his eyes.
*****
Gus silently shut the door after entering the room. Shawn was still sleeping peacefully, his breathing deep and even. Gus smiled faintly as he slid into the chair that Henry had vacated a few hours before. He had dropped by the elder Spencer’s house earlier to pick up a change of clothes, like he had been for the last week and a half, only to find Henry in a deep sleep on his couch. Gus had immediately turned around and left, knowing that the former cop really had to be out of it if someone could walk in without him waking up.
“That’d better be pineapple.”
Gus’ head jerked up to look Shawn straight in the eyes. The hazel orbs were still a little out of focus from the sleep and the drugs, but at least they were open. “Hey, buddy,” Gus greeted, holding out the small Styrofoam cup. Shawn accepted it eagerly, tugging the mask off his face. “I didn’t get you too much - I don’t think your stomach could handle a lot, what with all of the drugs you’ve been taking. If all those side effects hit you, your nausea would have nausea.”
“That’s why I’m glad you work with meds, pal. I dunno what I’d do without you,” Shawn said gratefully, talking a small sip. His stomach churned slightly, unaccustomed to food for awhile, but it was manageable.
“How’re you feeling?” Gus asked after a moment. “And don’t give me any crap,” he added sternly.
Shawn rolled his eyes. “Not bad, except for when I breathe, move, or talk,” he replied. When Gus’ eyes widened, he added hastily, “Seriously, dude, not bad. I’m sure it’s the drugs, but I’m not too bad off. Seriously.”
Gus sighed, his eyes searching his friend’s face. “You scared me to death, Shawn.”
Shawn frowned slightly. “I seem to have done that to a lot of people. Sorry,” he muttered apologetically.
“It’s not your fault,” Gus replied. He smirked faintly. “I was just worried I might actually have to start going to work for a full shift if you weren’t around to pull me out to solve some ridiculous case.”
“Well, it’s good to know I’m good for something,” Shawn replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes again.
“I thought you were gonna die. You almost did, Shawn. You almost died.”
The words were so quiet, Shawn almost didn’t hear them. He took another small sip of his smoothie as he looked at Gus. “Lean in,” he suddenly said, waving a finger.
Gus raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Is this gonna be a repeat of the first time you got drunk?”
“Dude, come on! We were sixteen!”
“Seventeen, Shawn. We were seventeen,” Gus shot back.
“No, you were seventeen. I was sixteen. Besides, do you see alcohol, shaving cream, or Danni Anderson in the vicinity? I don’t think so. So lean in,” Shawn ordered.
Gus sighed and obeyed. “What?”
He blinked in surprise when Shawn suddenly placed a hand on his head, a serious look on his face. “I’m right here, dude. I’m not going anywhere. At least, not until we’re ninety. You wanna know how I know that?”
“Cuz you’re psychic?” Gus asked sarcastically.
“Cuz I know you got my back, bro.”
Gus froze, his eyes wide. Finally he smiled. “And I know you got mine.”
“Right!” Shawn exclaimed triumphantly, letting his hand slide off Gus’ head as he leaned back into his pillows and drank more smoothie. “You got my back, and I got yours, so we’re all set! We’ll live full and prosperous lives… well, okay, I’ll just have a full life, you’ll be the full and prosperous one-”
“Got that right,” Gus muttered with a smirk.
“- we’ll annoy Lassie until we finally get him to open up and smile more than once in a blue moon-”
“You’re on your own with that one.”
“- and we’ll live until we’re ninety-six, and we’ll play cards in the retirement home every day,” Shawn finished with a grin, waving his smoothie around in the air violently.
“Shawn, I am never, never, ever playing cards with you again. Not after that strip poker incident.”
“Gus, that was seventh grade! And you didn’t even get all the way naked.”
“No, but Betty Harris never hung out with me after that,” Gus replied.
“You would’ve thought a girl with four older brothers would’ve seen Superman boxers before,” Shawn said thoughtfully.
“Sweet justice, if that’s what you two are talking about, I really don’t think I want to even be in the same building.”
“Lassie!” Shawn exclaimed brightly as the Head Detective entered, Juliet right on his heels. “And Jules! Glad to see you dragged him out of the office.” Juliet grinned.
“She did not drag me out of the office, Spencer, we were simply on the way to a scene and-”
“You actually stopped to see me? Lassie, I’m flattered!” Shawn cut in cheekily. Juliet and Gus both smiled as Lassiter rolled his eyes.
“You’re obviously just as annoying as ever,” the older man muttered, leaning against a back wall.
“How’re you feeling, Shawn?” Juliet asked, settling herself at the foot of his bed.
Shawn sipped his smoothie and gave a one-armed shrug. “All right,” he replied truthfully, his face turning slightly serious. “They made me move my leg earlier, which hurt like a - well, it hurt a lot. But the doctor thinks it’ll heal up alright.”
“That’s only if you stay in bed as long as your supposed to,” Gus warned. “Which I know you won’t. We’ll have to strap you down or something.”
“I’ve got plenty of sets of handcuffs to donate to the cause,” Lassiter piped up immediately.
Shawn opened his mouth, paused, then smirked. “Lassie, out of the goodness of my heart, I will not even touch that one.” Lassiter snorted. Shawn’s eyes moved to Juliet’s face. “You’re really okay?”
Juliet smiled and nodded. “I was only a little sore for awhile. Anyway,” she added, glancing at her watch, “we need to get going. Lassiter’s right, - we really were on our way to a scene. Nothing major, just a little break in,” she added hurriedly as Shawn’s eyes lit up eagerly. “We can handle it just fine without you.”
“Probably better,” Lassiter muttered. Shawn stuck out his lip in an extremely child-like pout.
“You just focus on getting better, okay?” Juliet continued, shooting Lassiter an icy glare.
“Yes, m-ma’am,” Shawn replied, his left-handed salute ruined by his yawn.
“But take your time doing it, Spencer,” Lassiter added as Juliet stood. “Seriously.”
“Love you, too, Lassie!” Shawn called as the detectives headed to the door. “Bye, Jules!”
“See you, Shawn,” Juliet replied softly, glancing over her shoulder to grin at him. The heart monitor sped up slightly, causing Gus to roll his eyes.
“Oh, and Lassiter?”
Lassiter paused, startled at the full use of his last name. “What, Spencer?”
Shawn grinned broadly. “You owe me a coffee.”
Lassiter snorted. “One foot barely out of the grave or not, I will not buy you any thing with caffeine or sugar, Spencer. Ever.” He shut the door, effectively drowning out Gus’ laughter and Shawn’s spluttering.
“You know you missed that,” Juliet said as they waited for the elevator at the end of the hall.
Next to her, Lassiter shifted subtly. “I plead the fifth,” he mumbled finally. Juliet grinned, but didn’t say anything.
It was great to have things returning to normal.
( Epilogue )
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Wonderful chapter! I know I keep saying it, and I'm always going to say, but you are such a wonderful and brilliant writer.
Loved the interaction between Spencer and Lassiter. Just like the show :)
Only the epilogue to go :(
You will then have to point me in the direction of more!!
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And I'll post a few more of my fics on here... I'll have to compile you a list of stuff to read over at Psychfic. There's quite a bit of good stuff over there. ^_^
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