Paint it Black

Chapter 3: It's that Three in the Morning Kind of Color

Within the first twenty-four hours, they started to wean Shawn off of the heavy barbiturates. It would be at least ten days before they'd remove the tube from his skull – a balancing act between assuring drainage and preventing the inevitable infection that would result if it stayed in place too long.

Abigail had been called the night of the surgery once Shawn's condition had stabilized. Expectedly, the news had horrified her and had prompted her to confess something to Gus between her tears. She'd been gone for the past week in Washington. She'd told Shawn it was a work related retreat. It was... but not for her job at the school. In three months, she was leaving for Uganda. She didn't know how long she'd be gone, or when she'd be back. And she hadn't told Shawn.

Gus had assured Abby that he'd keep her updated until her return in the next two days.

Henry and Gus had taken turns watching over Shawn. While Gus had a block of time in which to stand guard, he had been forced to leave every night in order to get some rest for the work day. The only one to remain behind, the only one allowed to stay for a few hours past the standard curfew, had been Henry.

That first couple of days had been brutal – most of his time spent alone with his son and watching for anything whatsoever to indicate there was hope of recovery. It had been slightly easier, though, when Abigail returned from her trip. Right around four every day, she would come straight from her class to let him go home for a few hours. As much as he'd wanted to stay and look after his boy, he'd known he couldn't keep it up forever. Besides, it had given him a chance to call Maddie without disturbing the peace of the ICU.

But now, with the drugs filtering out of Shawn's system, Henry was back to staying right by his son's bedside, even into the night, with special permission from the doctor.

Consciousness returned almost before he'd had time to worry if it ever would. The first time Shawn opened his eyes was around three in the morning the day after he'd been taken completely off the Nembutal. He hadn't been able to speak with the ventilator in place, but he hadn't stayed awake long enough for conversation anyhow. His eyes had rolled back and forth a bit and then, sighing, he'd slipped under once more.

Still, the neurologist was able to confirm increased brain activity and Henry took every positive he could find.

The second time Shawn woke up was four hours later. Henry had dozed off, but a nurse taking Shawn's vitals had been there for the event. Waking Henry with a pat on his shoulder, she'd left to get the doctor.

Pushing up a bit with his hands braced on the chair arms, Henry watched for a few moments, assuring himself that this wasn't just another ten seconds of consciousness. Shawn was still a little high on pain medication so anything said to him would probably be passing through a fairly thick filter.

“Hey, kid.” As he spoke, Henry placed his hand on Shawn's wrist.

Barely more than a flicker of his eyelids, the only thing indicating awareness was an increase in his heart monitor.

“Shawn, calm down, son, you're okay.” Henry kept his hand in place and his voice low as Shawn seemed to wake up more and more. As he soothed, the door behind him opened again with the returning nurse as well as Shawn's primary surgeon. The two didn't say much as approached the bed, though the doctor greeted Henry with a nod before leaning over to check Shawn's vitals. The nurse, meanwhile, switched out the nearly empty bag hanging from the IV pole.

“You're looking good, son.” The doctor patted his patient on the arm as he straightened. “Henry,” he lifted his eyebrows as he turned to address the nervous father hovering a protective twelve inches away, “you mind fetching some ice chips? I think he'll be wanting them in a few minutes.”