Lassie (and Shawn's) Great Adventure

5. Rain Sucks, Mud Sucks, Crazy Violent Criminals Suck...

The gunshots had stopped. After a few seconds, Carlton stopped as well. He still hadn't placed an exact fix on where the shooting had originated and without further guidance, he was left with coin flipping. Hell, without descent light and a compass, he was starting to realize he had no idea where he was either.

He rubbed the back of his neck and flinched when his fingers brushed the knot that had risen there. Possible concussion was probably the cause of his vision skewing all warped for a minute. As it stood, going back to his vehicle to await the back up that might be on its way wasn't optional. Spencer could get hurt on his watch, and he was willing to live with that. Was perfectly fine with that, in fact. Not to the point of crippling, but a bit of bruising to head and ego was satisfying in its own way. But leaving the man for dead? Aside from the personal aversion, O'Hara would be second in line behind Henry and one step ahead of Guster for the chance to create modern art from his intestines.

O'Hara. She'd finally reached a point where Spencer's flippant disregard for the meting out of justice didn't tempt her to stray from proper procedure. Keeping a leash on the consultant was trying at the best of times without his own partner feeding him kibble every chance she got. Now, though... She may have thought she was being crafty but more than once, Carlton had spotted her granting peeks into folders, making whispered phone calls, and even allowing her personal space to be breached at a crime scene without so much as a hard glare.

He knew she hadn't worked out all her trauma from the Yin fiasco. If they survived to see the Chief again, Carlton was making damn sure his partner put in a few more sessions with the psychologist. Whatever repercussions came from that, he'd take them like a man. But he intended to wear a vest just the same.

Concerns for his partner helped to bleed off some of the panic at finding himself totally without his bearings – enough that when Carlton looked around for a second time, he noticed a thinning spot amidst the trees ahead.

Stepping over a fallen pine, he worked his way over to the clearing.

He'd gone through Jesse's Girl, Drip Drip Drip, and Head Over Heels. His next effort was still wavering between David Bowie's “Underground” and Aerosmith's “Livin on the Edge”. Actually, there wasn't really a debate. David Bowie was the answer. David Bowie was always the answer. The question, was what song would finally aggravate the human parasite clinging to his legs enough that the man would just let go – choosing the pit over a never ending serenade?

Somehow, he'd managed to get hung up on a spear of metal jutting up almost flush with the pit wall. Hell if he knew what it was attached to – pure damn luck that he'd hooked the cuff on it at all. He was still working out the law of averages for that particular feat and hadn't even started on the likelihood of Rogers getting a save by grabbing him around the waist as they'd fallen. The added hundred and ninety or so of dead weight to his halted plummet had snapped something in his wrist – the burst of nauseating agony beyond his pain tolerance – leading to a fuzzy segment of time that had involved breaking down into Nell-speak. Unfortunately Liam Neeson wasn't there to save him from the backwoods, dark jedi, or the Nazis so it'd fallen on him to fight his own battles with the only arsenal he had. Taunting.

Hmm... Magic Dance?

“You remind me of the bab-OW!” Rogers pulled his teeth from Shawn's calf in time to dodge the kick aimed at his nose. Jerking movement wrenched at Shawn's wrist and now it was his turn to sink teeth into his own flesh at the sear of pain arching all the way to his shoulder. Screaming was a luxury locked beneath his chest. Gnawing into his bicep wasn't making the pain jolting from his wrist any less, but he couldn't help himself. So this was why trapped animals chewed off their own limbs!

The hand gripping a little too personally around the inside of his thigh let go long enough to grasp the waistband of his jeans. Startled at the groping, Shawn lashed out and connected with Rogers' knee – no reward for good behavior as Rogers landed a punch to his kidneys before clawing his fingers into the back of Shawn's shirt.