Disclaimer: I do not own Psych

This takes place not long after the season finale.

A dry hacking cough rang out through Shawn's empty apartment; he listened for a moment as the sound echoed down the hallway and then laid his head back down onto the arm of the couch. He sniffled and then brought the tissue up to wipe against the raw skin under his nose.

He moaned pitifully as he tugged the worn blanket tighter around himself and tried to concentrate on the midday news, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Abigail and the previous day's events.

She had officially broken it off with him, he sighed and then sneezed. He loudly blew his nose and then tossed the dirty tissue over the back of the couch where it was added to the crumpled masses from earlier that morning.

He had dove into the not so warm water, saved Abigail from Yin and then she dumped him. He tossed the blanket down to his waist suddenly feeling too warm and rubbed between his eyes where a steady ache had been building all morning.

Gus had stopped by earlier that morning and given Shawn some pain reliever before he went to work, but that had been several hours ago and it was starting to wear off now.

He was glad the Chief had told them she didn't want to see them for the next week. He knew Lassiter had taken a long overdue vacation and Juliet had flown to Florida to visit family.


He couldn't get his mind off of her either. Yin had taken the two most important women in his life and asked him to choose.

He was so confused. He loved Abigail and truth be told he had loved Juliet from the moment he first saw her in the diner and she had walked in and taken his seat.

He reached down and pulled the blanket back over himself as a chill ran up him. He curled up as much as he could on the small couch and closed his eyes, wishing that he wasn't all alone and that someone cared enough to be there when he was sick.

Henry pulled his old beat up truck into the parking spot in front of Shawn's apartment and turned off the engine. He hadn't spoken to his son since two days ago when he had helped him pull Abigail out of the water; he figured he would give the two some time alone. But that changed this morning when Gus had called to tell him that Abigail and broken it off with Shawn and that his son was down sick with the flu.

The truck door creaked as he stepped out into the California sunshine, he had a bag of groceries in one hand and a key that Guster had given him to Shawn's apartment in the other. He didn't even bother knocking as Gus had already told him that Shawn was probably still crashed on the couch and he didn't want to wake him.

He shoved the front door open and caught site of Shawn scrunched up on the couch and rolled tight in a blanket. He watched as his son's body twitched slightly and then let loose with a long drawn out coughing fit. He cringed as he set the bag of groceries on the floor, "I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn't wake you." Henry shrugged as Shawn turned over on the couch and turned fever tired eyes his direction. "But I guess I don't need to worry about that."

Shawn raised himself up onto an elbow as he wiped a hand under his nose, "I keep trying to sleep, just can't." He croaked his voice just barely above a whisper.

Henry grimaced as he watched Shawn revert back to childhood and use his shirt sleeve as a tissue, he picked up the groceries and walked towards the kitchen. "Do you have tissues somewhere?"

Shawn pointed to the back of the couch, "I ran out."

Henry glanced at the stack of wadded up tissues decorating the floor before rolling his eyes, "Nice, kid."

"How did you get a key to my apartment?" Shawn shoved the blanket down again and rubbed a hand over his aching forehead.


"Bad Gus." Shawn folded his arms over his chest as he thought of clever ways to get back at his best friend. When he heard his father going through the plastic bag he had brought in his mind was jolted into a different direction, "Did you bring pineapple?"

"No." Henry set all the items he had purchased on the counter and then threw away the bag.

"I've got juice, so.."

"Pineapple juice?" Shawn interrupted.

"No!" Henry gave an exasperated sigh, "Soup, flu medicine and tissues." He held up a box of extra soft tissues and threw them towards Shawn's outstretched hands.

"Thank you." Shawn said as he caught the box and ripped it open, grabbing a few tissues he dabbed his nose and then threw them behind the couch.

Henry walked around the couch and took a seat on the coffee table, he grabbed the remote and turned the television off. "I was watching that." Shawn said behind closed eyelids.

"I doubt that." Henry laid the items he had brought with him on the table and then reached a hand out to feel Shawn's forehead. He wasn't surprised when Shawn's eyes opened and he batted his hand away.

"Here, take these." He gave Shawn the pills and then the glass of juice to wash them down.

"You're running quite the temperature there." Henry said as he took the glass back to the kitchen.

"One minute I'm hot and the next I'm cold." Shawn whined as he once again pulled the blanket around himself.

"That's the flu for you." Henry called out as he made his way down Shawn's hallway where he disappeared into the bathroom.

He returned several minutes later with a cold, wet washcloth.

"What's that for?" Shawn asked wearily.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Put it on your forehead, it will help you sleep."

Shawn snorted. "Can't sleep, I told you." He grabbed the washcloth and laid it on his forehead anyway, sighing when it eased his headache and cooled him off slightly.

Henry retook his seat on the coffee table, "What happened with Abigail?"

"She broke up with me." Shawn mumbled behind closed eyelids. "I'm sure Gus told you that."

Henry nodded. "He did."

"Did she give you a reason?"

Shawn shrugged, " I guess I'm too much work for her, my job is too much."

Henry thought for a moment before responding, "Then I guess she wasn't the right one."

"I think I let the right one getaway." Shawn handed the washcloth back to his father and then flipped onto his stomach to get more comfortable.

Henry laid the washcloth on the back of Shawn's neck.

"Thank you." Shawn's response was muffled against the couch cushions, but after 30 years Henry could decipher all kinds of Shawn mumble.

"You're welcome, kid." He brought his hand up and ran it through the back of Shawn's hair a few times, before getting swatted away.

He grinned. "Have you given up on this right one, Shawn?"

Shawn took a deep breath as he thought about his father's question and then replied with confidence, "No."

"Then she hasn't gotten away." Henry cleared his throat. "The right one only gets away when you give up on her."

Shawn turned his head towards his dad, "You think so?"

Henry nodded a faraway look coming to his eyes, "Trust me, Shawn" He reached out and a laid a hand on Shawn's back. "I know all about letting the right one getaway."

Shawn reached out and patted his dad's leg, understanding far more then he wanted too. His eyes started to drift shut again and he let his arm slide to the floor.

Henry patted him on the back a few times, "Get some sleep, kid."

"Thanks, Dad." He slurred almost lost in the haze of sleep.

"For what?" Henry asked as he stood up.

"Always being there." Shawn's voice faded on the last word and Henry could tell that he had fallen asleep.

Henry smiled down at his child.

The one that had driven him crazy on more than one occasion over the years, the one that kept him young and the one that he'd give his own life for in a heartbeat. "There's nowhere else I want to be."