YAY! Another chappie! :) Took forever, and I'm sorry for that. I've really got no excuse, I'm just lazy.. hurhur.
So, I guess you could call this a sequel to the previous chapter. An explanation, if you will. It was requested by a reviewer, and I thought ti was a good idea. :) Props to tinkerbelle0603!
So, yeah. All the police procedure and medical (though there's not much, none really..) is probably waaay off. So bear with me. :P And I know the title sucks, but.. yeah. Okay. Moving on. :)
Read! Enjoy! Review!
I'm not sure why we try to tell Shawn what to do. He never listens, and we all know that. We've known for a long time, it isn't a particularly difficult thing to figure out.
But we still try. We tell him to be quiet and take a break from his nonstop chatter, we tell him to be serious and stop joking all the time, we tell him not to do stupid things that could hurt himself or someone else.
We tell him to wait in the car while we run off to catch a murderer. An armed murderer.
He never listens.
And it scares me every time.
This time, though, he scared me more than I have ever been scared before.
"Alright, Shawn, listen to me." I said, twisting in the passenger seat of Lassiter's car to look him right in those heart-melting hazel eyes. He was staring out the window with his forehead pressed to the glass and his nose smashed up against it.
Slowly he turned, his gaze not leaving the run-down apartment building we had parked in front of.
"Shawn!" I barked, determined to get his attention and make him listen this time.
Finally he turned his attention to me, although I still wasn't sure I had his full attention. "Okay, okay, keep your pants on, Jules. Actually, you know, if you wanted to take them off I-"
"Listen to me," I repeated, my words coming out harsher than I had meant them to. But I needed him to listen to me, and really listen. The perpetrator, a man by the name of Jeff Riley, was dangerous and a little off his rocker, which just added to the danger factor.
Shawn shut his mouth, blinking at me with a hint of surprise in his expression. I didn't blame him, though. It wasn't often I snapped at him like this.
"You have to stay in this car, okay?" I couldn't help it, my eyebrows began to knit together and the desperation became apparent on my face.
"Okay Jules." He said it so casually, so lightly. I don't think he was listening.
"No, Shawn, I mean it. You have to stay right here, I don't even want you unbuckling your seatbelt. Do you understand? This guy Riley is dangerous, Shawn, and someone could get hurt if you decided to waltz in. Alright Shawn?" Gosh, how many times could I fit his name into a few sentences? Hopefully I said it enough for him to understand I mean what I say.
He stared at me for a couple of seconds, just looking into my eyes like he was searching for something. I tried to hold his gaze, tried to stay strong. But it's hard to stay strong when you feel like you're melting.
"Okay Jules." He said again, but this time the lightness was gone. I think I got through to him. I hope I got through to him.
I held his gaze a moment longer before turning and pushing open the door. Lassiter was already out of the car, leading the rest of the officers toward the door and directing them with his gun at the ready. I took my own gun out and started creeping after them, trying to be aware of everything all at once.
After lot of shouting and banging, someone broke the door open and everyone started running into the house, all shouting and pointing their guns. I shot one last look back at Lassiter's car, just to make sure Shawn hadn't disappeared already.
But there he was, slouched in the back seat with his forehead pressed to the glass again. Usually he looked like he was going to spend the rest of the day moping when someone told him not to do something, either that or he got a mischievous glint in his eye.
This time as I caught his eye he looked… worried? Was he worrying? Why should he be worried? All he had to do was wait in the back seat of a car, safe and sound, while we did the dirty work and caught the bad guy.
But I knew why he was worried. Or at least, I had an idea. Maybe you could call it a hope.
He was worried about me. I was going into a dangerous situation, and he wasn't. He wouldn't know if I was okay until I came out, and until then all he could was wait.
At least that's what I was hoping he was worried about. When you're talking about Shawn, he could be worried about anything from forgetting to record his favorite episode of Knight Rider to being worried about how his hair looked at the current moment. You just never know with him, every day is a new and different surprise.
Maybe that's why I fell in love with him…
I paused for a second, a little shocked at my own thoughts. Was I really in love with him?
Hell yes. You know you are, Juliet.
Crap. I am in love with him.
I broke eye contact rather awkwardly and returned my thoughts to the situation at hand, I needed to be completely focused on this and only this, and not thinking about his perfectly messy hair… or the way my body tingles when his hand accidentally brushed against mine… or how he always has those top two buttons on his shirt unbuttoned to expose just the right amount of skin… or…
No. I have to focus. Forget about Shawn for the moment.
So I did, and, at the signal from Lassiter, I followed him up the stairs (which looked like they might collapse at any moment). We silently crept down the hall, our bodies alert for any sort of movement or sound and our fingers ready to pull the trigger if we needed to.
Everyone jumped a little and whipped their guns around to face the door at the end of the hall when the loud sound of shattering glass ripped through the silence.
Everything after that happened kind of quickly, but I'll try to sum it up for you.
There was more shouting. The door was kicked down. Everyone aimed their gun. No one was there. I went to the window. I saw Riley disappear over the edge of the roof. I spun around to warn Lassiter. Everyone bolted out of the room. We all sprinted down the stairs and out the door.
And when I rounded the corner, I felt my body go numb and my stomach tie itself in a knot that even the Boy Scouts (or the Girl Scouts) could untie.
There was Riley, and there was Shawn.
But right then I was far too afraid to be angry, because the gun in Riley's hand was aimed directly at Shawn's heart, and he had that crazed look in his eye. The look a man gets before he pulls the trigger.
Shawn glanced over at us, and smiled.
He just smiled.
Like it's the most natural thing in the world to have a gun pointed at your chest.
"And here comes the cavalry!" Shawn declared happily, but I didn't miss the little bit of fear in his voice. He had gotten himself in a situation that probably wouldn't end good, and he knew it.
Maybe now he would listen to us when we told him to wait in the car.
"Put the gun down! NOW!" Lassiter screamed, his own gun aimed at Riley.
"Oh, you don't really think I would actually do that, do you?" Riley chuckled, a sound that sent chills down my spine and made the little hairs on my arms stand straight up.
"I think he does…" Shawn started, but trailed off when Riley shot him a look.
"Shut up." He growled, taking a step toward Shawn threateningly and causing all the officers with their guns trained on him to shift.
Shawn, who was standing next to a large wooden oak table tipped on its side with the legs facing us, took a step toward it. It looked like someone had just thrown the table out of the house and left it there, and I was glad. Shawn could use it as cover.
I could tell he had the same thought, because his body had tensed and he looked like he was about ready to jump behind it. He shot a look at Lassiter, who nodded to acknowledge his plan, and inched closer to the table.
Riley laughed again, throwing his head back and letting the sound echo through the air. "You know, you aren't being very subtle. I can tell you're going to jump behind the table."
"Table? What table?" Shawn asked, looking utterly clueless as he turned his head to scan the area around him. "Oh, that table!" He exclaimed when his gaze finally rested on the overturned table.
"Yes, that table." Riley hissed, taking another step toward Shawn. Once again, Shawn took a step back and the officers shifted. "What do you say we end this? Right here, right now." He continued, his voice low and dangerous.
"You want to turn yourself in? Great idea, buddy. Really, I approve." Shawn nodded, pasting an uneasy smile on his face and scooting towards the table.
"Ha! You know, you're kind of funny. It's a real shame I have to do this, but I know that there's no way out for me. If you get me, I go to jail for three or four lifetimes or something like that, right? So…"
The word sent another round of chills through my body. He was going to try something, I knew it.
"If I'm going down, I might as well take someone with me." With that said and everyone as tense as can be, Riley took another step toward Shawn as he tightened his finger around the trigger.
There was a chorus of shots, but I couldn't tell where they came from. They just came from everywhere. I saw Shawn start to dive behind the table when Riley fired, and I saw his body lurch to the side right before he disappeared behind the boards of the table top. My heart lurched much like his body had, and I nearly fell over.
God, I didn't even recognize my own voice. That had been me, right? I sounded so… scared.
But that's because I didn't know if he was okay. I didn't know if he would ever come striding into the precinct again. I didn't know if he would ever distract us during a serious case, or crack another joke. I didn't know if I would ever hear his voice again, or see those eyes.
I just didn't know.
After the shots stopped, time froze. No one moved. No one blinked. No one breathed.
If we did, it would make it all real.
My eyes were glued to the table, hoping that at any moment (preferably soon) Shawn would peek over the top and make some obscure 80's joke, and we would all pretend to be angry with him and turn our backs to him. But really we would do that so he wouldn't see the relieved looks on all our faces.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore, I needed to know. I needed to know now.
"Shawn?" My voice was shaking, although not nearly as bad as my hands were, and it was so quiet I could barely hear what I said. I took two hesitant steps forward, lowering my gun as Riley had been shot in the thigh and had been cuffed already, so the danger was no more.
"Heh, looks like I got him, eh?" Riley sniggered, looking quite satisfied and rather proud of himself.
I didn't dignify Riley's comment with any sort of reaction, but I could feel the tears welling in my eyes and tried to blink them back. I made sure to face away from Riley, so that he wouldn't get a glimpse of the salty droplets of water now rolling down my cheeks. Maybe he had gotten Shawn, the silence had been way too long, and there still wasn't any sign of movement from him.
Just as I was taking another step forward and smearing the tears across my cheek with the back of my hand, a loud, drawn out groan came from behind the table.
Another groan, and a hand appeared over the top of the wood, grasping the edge. Fingers tightened around the oak surface, and a moment later mussed brown hair appeared, followed by a pair of pain-filled hazel eyes. My breath hitched at how much pain was filling those gorgeous eyes of his, those eyes that were normally so bright and energetic.
I could hear the ambulance in the background, the sound growing nearer much too slowly. I wished they would hurry, Shawn could be dying behind that table!
That same thought pushed me forward, and I put one foot in front of the other to make my way towards him. Before I could reach him, though, he spoke.
"Sorry dude, but not this time. You should really invest in an Aiming Your Gun for Dummies. You could use the extra instruction…"
"Shawn!" I gasped as he let it be known that he had not actually been shot. Relief washed over me, but so did a wave of irritation. How could he let me think he was dead?
"Jules! Wait, are those tears? Are you crying?" His mouth hung open a little and he gaped at me, looking absolutely horrified. I didn't have a chance to answer, because suddenly he let out another groan and gripped the table until his knuckles were white.
"Shawn?" God, was that all I could say? What was that, the fifth time I'd said his name?
Moving around the table, and going at a much faster pace than before, I searched for the blood I was sure would be staining his navy polo or faded blue jeans. But there was none. It was only when I stopped looking for the blood that I realized Shawn had his eyes squeezed shut and was clutching his arm to his chest. Another groan escaped his lips as I knelt beside him.
"I need to work on my landing techniques…" He mumbled, still cradling his arm like a small child. Shifting to get a better view, I saw that it was slightly bent in a place arms are not supposed to bend.
"Your arm? You broke your arm?" I whispered, dragging my eyes up to meet his.
He snorted. "I'm sorry, did I disappoint?"
I couldn't answer, because the floodgates had opened and the tears were drowning my vision, making Shawn's figure become blurry and out of focus.
"Jules?" Shawn brought the hand belonging to his good arm up to my face, cupping one cheek and rubbing a few tears away with his thumb.
"I just- You aren't- I thought…" I couldn't finish any of my sentences, and trailed off instead, desperately trying to stop the flowing tears. It was embarrassing, I hated crying like this in front of the entire police squad, and especially in front of Shawn.
"It's okay," Shawn murmured softly before I could attempt another sentence; his hand was still pressed to my face. I put my own hand over it, closing my eyes and dropping my forehead onto his shoulder.
"What if you'd-"
"I wasn't." This time he cut me off, I could have finished my sentence. I swear.
"But Shawn, you could have. And… if you had," Raising my head, I paused. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn't know how to get it into words. "I don't know. I'm just glad you aren't." Burying my head into his shoulder again, I felt like we could have stayed like that for hours. But the fact that Shawn's arm was broken and the paramedics were wedging themselves between the two of us made it impossible.
I stayed with him during the ride in the ambulance, and followed the gurney as far as they would let me when we reached the hospital. And the minute I was allowed, I found his hospital room and sat in the chair at his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. I held his hand as he woke, returning his groggy, lop-sided grin with an amused smile. And when his head cleared and he was thinking straight again, I laughed and cried at the three words he told me with the most serious expression on his face I had seen. Turns out, he had been having some similar realizations during the earlier ordeal.
So once again his hand came to my cheek and his thumb wiped away the tears, only this time, instead of ending with paramedics wheeling him away, it ended with a kiss.