Because Seven Eight Nine [6/7]
Title: Because Seven Eight Nine
Rating: T
Characters: Shawn, Lassiter, Buzz, Team Psych, OFC
Warnings: mention of abuse of a minor, violence, gore, Shawn has a moment of stupidity . . . or lots of them.
Genres: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Chapters: 7
Completed: Yes
Word count: 10,267
Disclaimer: See Prologue.
Notes: See Prologue.
Summary: The entire list of things that Carlton Lassiter liked about Shawn Spencer came into play on that otherwise innocuous Tuesday.
(Because of that fateful Tuesday, he has discovered he is willing to break the rules sometimes, and while the thought alarms him, he doesn't think there's anything he can do about it now that he knows.)
P 1 2 3 4 5 E
When next he woke it was to the sound of a heart monitor.
His brow furrowed, then tried to pry his eyes open, fighting the gunk that had collected to glue them shut. It proved to be too much effort and he gave up for now.
“They might release him tomorrow, depending on how much longer he stays under,” O'Hara said quietly from somewhere near his feet.
“If he's lucky he'll stay under for another hour,” Henry replied. “They'll have released Shawn by then and he never needs to know they were roommates.”
Wait, what?
O'Hara chuckled. “That would definitely set back his recovery.”
Henry chuckled as well, then sobered. “How is the little girl?”
“Bree's doing well, physically speaking anyway. Her injuries are all old or superficial. And now that she's been cleaned up she's a very cute little girl. Apparently she has an aunt that's expressed interest in taking her she probably won't have to go into the system. She's very lucky.”
“That's good,” Henry said.
“She's had such a hard life so far. I'm not sure she'd survive the system.”
“She'd survive,” Henry disagreed. “But she wouldn't be the cute, sweet little girl she is now.”
Carlton wavered between letting them know he was awake and going back to sleep. He didn't want to make the effort, but the longer it took to tell them he wasn't brain damaged the longer they'd keep him.
Unless he was brain damaged and that was why he couldn't get his eyes open . . .
He vaguely heard the sound of the heart monitor beep speeding up.
“Hey!” Spencer shouted.
“What is it, Shawn?” O'Hara asked, moving away.
“Lassie's awake. And freaking out.”
There was a pause, then the hurried clicking of O'Hara's heels came over to his side.
“Carlton?”
He tried to speak but it came out more of a gargled moan.
“Henry-”
“I'll get a nurse.”
“Come on, Carlton. Open those eyes. That's an order, Detective.”
He frowned and concentrated.
“I . . . give the orders . . . O'Hara,” he croaked. Guh. He needed a drink so badly.
He heard a wet sort of laugh.
“Thirsty,” he tried to say, but he'd expended his ability to talk without a drink.
“Here are some ice chips,” Spencer's voice said, suddenly right next to him. Well at least those psychic powers were good for something. Hooray for Spencer.
He would get a quick death for that.
“Thanks,” O'Hara said and moments later his lips were being nudged by a plastic spoon.
Icy bits of sweet, sweet joy were deposited on his waiting tongue and he couldn't help the sigh that escaped as they melted and soothed his parched mouth. He felt more alive already.
Two sets of footsteps entered the room, one brisk and purposeful, the other soft and unhurried.
“Detective Lassiter?” a male voice he didn't recognize asked. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
“I think tho,” he said, lisping from the fresh spoon of ice he was working on.
He gave it his best and after a moment-fighting the suction of the sleep gunk accumulated over however many days he'd been here-succeeded. They popped free and he blinked rapidly against the bright lights.
And started at Spencer's face just inches from his own.
“GAAHH!” He choked on his ice chips and that set off a round of coughing.
“Ow! Jules!”
“Shawn, try not to kill him as soon as he wakes up, okay?”
The unfamiliar male voice was back. “Easy there, detective. Breathe with me, in and out.”
He had rolled onto his side to try in a reflexive move to help with the choking, gagging with the spike of agony that drove through his shoulder, and then opened his watering eyes to see that it was his nurse who was talking to him. A male nurse. Lovely.
“Just breathe. That's it.” A stern look was leveled over his shoulder. “Mr. Spencer, shouldn't you be in bed?”
“I broke my arm, not my leg.”
“And cracked some ribs. You need to keep unnecessary pressure off them. Now lay down or I'll have you sedated for your own good.”
You know, male nurses weren't so bad. And they were a lot less embarrassing when you needed help going to the bathroom . . .
“Detective?”
“What happened?” Carlton asked.
“What do you remember?”
Carlton took some time on that. “Getting shot?”
The nurse, Derek Morris according to his name tag, nodded and began taking vitals and just generally checking him out as he explained.
“That's right. An artery was nicked and you were bleeding internally as well as externally. You passed out from a combination of blood loss and the mild concussion you sustained when you fell. But thanks to the skilled hands of your surgeon and your operating team we were able to patch you up. It will take some time, but now that you're awake and coherent I can say with confidence that it appears you'll be back to full strength with no long term disability from this.”
Carlton nodded.
That was very good news.
“You'll be here for a few days at least but your physical therapy will be on an outpatient basis.”
That was even better news.
“O'Hara, did you ever explain how you found us? And why you brought Shawn's backup singers instead of some more officers?”
Movement behind her caught his eye and he saw Henry's arched eyebrow and mouthing of, “Backup singers?”
He shrugged. He was on drugs. That was all the excuse he was going to offer. It ought to work well enough.
“I started to,” she said, but explained again for his benefit. “After Francie called I called you to find out what was going on. You didn't answer and neither did Buzz, but Francie said you had been in your official vehicle, so I called and had the Lo-jack traced. I was with Gus at the time of Francie's call and Henry called him while I was on the phone with the Lo-jack people. Gus wouldn't stay behind but he didn't know how to use a weapon and I didn't really have anything concrete to go on for requesting official help so . . .”
He blinked and then got the feeling he'd missed something when he opened his eyes back up and saw O'Hara in front of him. Hadn't she been on the other side of the bed?
“Visiting hours are over. I'll be back tomorrow, Carlton.”
He nodded-or thought he did-and then let his eyes close again. He hadn't been awake but from the decrease in pain he was pretty sure he'd been given another dose of painkillers and he was finding it not worth the effort to stay awake.
If he was lucky Spencer would be gone when he woke next . . .
He could only hope.
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