Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

No More for Me, Thanks

Henry had arrived to the mansion just in time to turn his truck around and, once again, find himself chasing an ambulance, bearing his son, back to the hospital.

No chance of pursuing the gurney, too, he was waylaid by nursing staff who demanded that someone sign for the special delivery. As though they couldn't have the info on file and within easy access, given the spinning door treatment Shawn had given Urgent Care for most of his life. More, since opening Psych, and exponentially more within the last half a year.

McNab had been assigned to remain at his side and cast a dark shadow over the forms that Henry gave a fast glance and scrawl. Annoying as it was to be haunted by the overy affable mastiff in blue, Henry could understand the caution; considering his son was, again, sharing a hospital stay with his attacker. Stalking the waiting room, the oversized young officer hounding his movements, Henry had been hard put to keep a lid on the lava flow - justification notwithstanding - he just really didn't need to get kicked to the street before hearing if his son had pulled the trifecta for unlikely survival. Trouble magnet and irresponsible a lethal mix of traits, yet just enough of a lucky streak thrown into the batter to squeak the boy through in situations that would have easily killed anyone else. Henry's own training methods surely the tipping point for shoving the odds in Shawn's favor; God, that kid.

Wishing for a hat to twist in his hands, Henry settled for an already shredded copy of Wired. Gus, feet dragging the tile and still smudged in a head to toe layer of filth, finally slumped himself into one of the soft chairs near the bright fish tank bisecting the space. He'd gone to take a phone call nearly half an hour ago but Henry had little interest in rejoining the young man, now that he'd returned.

"Hear anything yet?" Only a few other people in the silent room; Gus's voice carried easily in spite of his soft tone.

Henry shook his head. "No."

Not even enough time to dwell on the silence, though, before a young nurse pushed through the door across from the seating area. "Shawn Spencer?"

Henry turned and Gus stood.

The nurse smiled. "Follow me."

~-~-~

The sky was all shades of reds and blues over the ocean. Sailor take warning colors and choppy waves meant the smaller pleasure boats would be staying in the harbor. Already it was getting chilly outside and not only because of the season. Was Christmas just a month and a half away? Any other year he'd have been bicep deep in gift planning. Any other year he'd have been giddy at the excitement of the coming holidays.

Shawn tugged his collar; debating the top button. The gnarly little scar wasn't quite covered by his shirt. Not as large as he'd thought it would be; though five months of healing and a tight row of stitches had minimized the carnage. While it was one of the smallest of his scars; it was the only one that most people saw. Unless he planned to sport a turtle neck, every day, he'd have to put up with the eyes trying to land everywhere but on his throat while, simultaneously, staring at it. Maybe he should give ascots another go?

Dad had dropped him off at the Psych office a few hours ago. Lots of questions about returning - whether or not Gus should keep footing the rent (though Shawn was certain that others had stepped in to slip their finances a significant boost - Gus's income may have earned a step up now that he was spending most of his day at his paying job but even he couldn't swing the capital to support a second job that only drained resources). Shawn still had no answer to that. He needed the distraction of work yet was nauseated by the thought.