So we'll be wrapping up soon guys :D Seeing as I write these A/N's before I write the chapter, I don't yet know how this one will play out ;) You'll have to read the A/N at the bottom to see if this is the last chapter or not :P (Edit after writing the chapter: it is :P)

Last Chapter:

"I'm going to get some coffee," Madeline said. "You'll all stay with him?" She asked.

"Of course," Gus replied, taking her seat. Henry and Lassiter decided to just lean against the walls instead, but they all kept the one vigil, and if Shawn was disturbed by their staring in his sleep, he didn't show it.

Chapter 8

"Dad, I really don't need your help with this," Shawn said through gritted teeth, as he tried to pull himself out of bed, Henry hovering close by. "Believe it or not, I manage this most mornings without my father's help."

"Most mornings you have to pull yourself off the couch at Psych," Gus said snidely.

"The heating in my apartment blew, Gus - where else am I gonna sleep? You never let me in your apartment."

"You always put my cds in a new order when I'm not there, Shawn! How am I supposed to find my Aldo Nova greatest hits when you've put them underneath the cd rack?"

"Gus, it's in order of awesomeness! Where else would you expect an Aldo Nova cd to go?"

"Would both of you shut up?" Henry snapped. "Shawn, why didn't you tell me your heating wasn't working?"

Shawn blinked. "Dad - I'm a big boy now! I don't need to go to you if I can't fix something! I was going to call a plumber, but then I got distracted by your old case!"

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe deeply. "Shawn - just get out of bed."

"I am!" Shawn argued, slowly pulling the covers off to show off his bandaged gunshot on his leg. He groaned slightly as he finally placed his feet on the floor. He hadn't gotten out of bed for about 4 days now and was grimly enjoying it, despite the pain.

The doctors had said that he had been lucky with his leg - there hadn't been any nerve damage and it had been a through-and-through, so there hadn't been that much to patch up. They had also said he had been lucky with his arms. The bruising would eventually go, and there wouldn't be too much scarring.

Shawn had snorted at what they had said. Yeah, he was lucky alright.


He had nightmares still. Tied up with that maniac. He was just glad that no one he knew had been there to witness it. They would expect him to have been snarky to the end. To the end he had given up and had all but begged to be spared.

"Goose, I know how you don't like jello," Madeline came into the room holding a few pots and a spoon, "but you need to eat something or they'll put you on an IV," she paused, seeing her son stood up, and even though she could see the strained way he held himself, she was happy he had gotten up.

"Mom - I'd rather eat Dad's cooking than jello," Shawn grimaced, slowly taking a few hobbles towards her.

"Hey!" Henry said, affronted.

"Come on, Dad - your steaks? Lovely. Anything else? Not so good," Shawn said in what he thought was an appeasing manner.

"Shawn," his mother tried again, trying to prevent a fight. "I got you some pineapple flavoured jello," she smiled as his eyes lit up in delight. He took one of the pots from her delightedly and opened it, holding it in his bandaged hand, letting his less injured hand do most of the work.

"Shawn, you're up!" Juliet walked in, beaming at him.

"Jules! Yes I am, would you like some jello?" He asked her pleasantly, offering it before drawing it back to himself. "Let me ask you something first - are you a fan of delicious flavour?" He grinned and took a bite, before pulling an odd face and spitting it back into the pot. "That's disgusting," he said morosely. "Can't I have some real pineapple? Surely that's what you give invalids?"

"No, Shawn - that's what you give to people recovering in hospital," Gus told him, trying a bit of the jello from one of the other pots.

"Because everyone is a fan of delicious flavour!" Shawn argued, looking disgustedly at Gus, who appeared to enjoying the jello. "Plus, the ribbon I put on is to add some colour to the room, and makes it a very welcome gift."

Henry shook his head at Shawn's odd stream of thoughts and his bizarre love of pineapples. When Shawn was younger he was very much apposed to fruit. So one day he and Maddy had picked up the first fruit they could find in the house and tell Shawn that he wasn't allowed it.

They'd found the bits they purposefully cut up and left in a bowl gone.

And the next day at the supermarket, Shawn had begged for more pineapples.

"Mr Spencer, how are we today?" The doctor asked as he walked in, smiling benignly.

"Just peachy, Doc," Shawn replied, before looking stunned. "Actually, change that - just pineappley!" He looked extremely proud of this.

"We think that his medication has been affecting him somewhat," the doctor said, looking disconcerted. "He often talks nonsense after receiving it."

"Nope, this is him normally," Henry said, and as if on cue, a nurse walked in.

"Ready for your medication, Shawn?" She asked sweetly. "I know you need it."

"Now, Lindsay," Shawn said flirtatiously. "You know I'm perfectly fine; I'm ready for a bed bath, however," he winked.

She blushed but didn't reply as Henry growled. "Shawn, take the damn pain meds, I know you're in pain."

Shawn flinched, which jarred his shoulder and arm, making him reach out to the pills. He quickly took them, making the nurse smile at him and leave. "So, doc - when can I leave?"

"I want to keep you in for a bit longer," he replied, scribbling something on his clipboard. "But I'd be happy to discharge you in about... a week?"

"A week?" Shawn repeated. "No can do, Doc - ironically, I have a meeting on how to avoid hostage situations."

"You're staying for a week," Henry told him with a no-nonsense tone. "And then you'll be coming to stay at mine for a while."

Shawn flinched again and wanted to crawl back under the covers.

After 6 days - Shawn had annoyed the medical staff so much they had hastily said he didn't need to stay an extra night - Shawn was pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair, which he had vehemently argued against.

"Mom, I really don't need this - " he had pleaded.

"Shawn, let your old mother have this," she had retorted. "Let me make sure you at least leave the hospital safely."

Shawn was slightly confused at her tone. "What do you mean?" He asked softly. "Are you not staying?"

"Oh, Goose - I wish I didn't have to, but I'm leaving," she told him. "I already missed quite a few evals and my next job is in New York - I really can't afford not to go. Anyways," she said in a forced light tone, "I'm sure your dad will make sure you don't get into anything else dangerous before you're completely healed."

"I'll be surprised if I'm ever let out of the house again," Shawn mumbled, but brightened as they approached the exit. Outside, were a dozen officers, including Gus, Jules, Buzz, the Chief and Lassiter. Although he didn't look happy to be there, he was still there, which made Shawn smirk.

"Aw, guys - you didn't have to!" He exclaimed as Madeline pushed the chair over whilst Henry went to get his truck. "Do I get balloons?"

"Mr Spencer, the department wanted to commend you for your bravery - which cancels out the formal reprimand you would have gotten for disobeying my orders and nearly getting yourself killed," Karen said, trying to conceal a smile. She had been deeply worried about him.

"Aw, thank you Chief," he had beamed, carefully pushing himself up off the chair and limping over to them all. "Did you organise this, Buddy?" He asked Gus, looking around at the smiling faces of the department. "You should've seen our High School reunion," he told them all. "It was the best gymnasium-turned-Jamaican-esque forest I've ever seen."

"It was a Carribean theme, Shawn," Gus told him.

"Shawn!" Henry had arrived with his truck, so Shawn reluctantly said goodbye to his welcome party and went over.

"Make sure he doesn't tear his stitches, Henry," Madeline said worriedly, as Shawn slowly clambered into the truck.

"He is right here, so you can talk to him directly," Shawn told her, suddenly feeling very tired. On hearing the truck start, he opened his eyes which had suddenly closed and looked around. "Mom, you're not coming?"

"I need to catch my plane, sweetie," she told him, with a sad smile. "I'll call you."

"Yeah," Shawn replied. "Okay."

"You be careful!" She told him strictly. "I'll know if you haven't been!"

He smiled. "Bye, Mom."

She reached into the truck and gave him a gentle hug. "Be good for your father," she warned him.

Shawn chuckled.

"If your Dad catches you doing that..." Gus said worriedly, watching Shawn standing on a chair to reach something at the top of a cupboard in the kitchen.

"Gus, don't be one of the background smurfs that never got given names," Shawn reprimanded. "He's out - he won't know about this."

Gus had been called round to Shawn-sit while Henry was out for the day. Although it was 3 days since they arrived back from the hospital, Henry was still very much aware of what damage Shawn could do without constant supervision.

"I knew I should've been the one to get it," Gus huffed, watching uneasily as the chair Shawn was standing on started to wobble as he shifted forwards in an attempt to reach the box of lucky charms.

"And I knew that he had a box of these somewhere!" Shawn exclaimed triumphantly. "All those times when I was younger! 'No, Shawn, you can't have that cereal, it's bad for you!'" Shawn mocked in a gravelly tone, trying to sound like Henry. "And he has a whole box!" He turned to look at Gus. "Dude, the Super Smeller is improving - smelling it from the cupboard and inside the box? Nice work, man!" He grinned and threw the box down to Gus.

"Shawn, I think he'll realise if we eat some of it," Gus told him, placing the box on the counter.

"Nonsense - for a few days now I've been sneakily suggesting he has mice. We'll get a mouse, make it take a few nibbles, then - " Shawn wobbled uncontrollably on the chair and before he could get off, it came crashing to the floor.

"Shawn!" Gus knelt down, knowing he would be killed by Henry if Shawn had to go back to the hospital.

"Lighten up, buddy, I'm good," Shawn groaned, clutching at his ribs. Several had been broken, and Gus was now worried that he had broken them again. "I'm fine - there's not that much pain. And nothing's gone 'ping', so I'm fine," he carefully pulled himself off the floor, and was on his knees as Henry came through the door, with Lassiter behind him.

They had clearly been talking and laughing about something, but the mood changed as Henry spied both Gus and Shawn knelt down, with Shawn holding his stomach. "Shawn, are you alright?" Henry asked, hurrying over. Lassiter tried to look less concerned but his mouth was twitching as he attempted to look casual.

"I'm fine, Dad - Gus wanted to practice his dance routine based off Footloose. I told him it was dangerous, but he insisted," Gus elbowed him in the back, causing him to wince slightly.

"Shawn - the doctor said that the best cure is rest," Henry told him, waiting for him to get to his feet before pulling him over to the couch.

"Dad, I'm fine - and what's Lassie doing here?" Shawn asked, only just seeing the detective as he hung back in the living room.

"We were fishing," Carlton said. "And..." he gave a glance to Henry. "And your dad wanted me to get in touch with the department psychologist - "

"What?" Shawn tried to jump back up, before realising that the couch was extraordinarily comfy. "Dad, did you stuff swan feathers in this? I feel like I'm on a cloud..."

"Gus, fetch a blanket or something," Henry ordered. "And yes, Shawn - a psychologist. Don't give me that look," he warned, as Shawn tried to pout at him, "it'll be good for you. You're still having nightmares."

"Daaaad," Shawn whined, not wanting Lassiter to know about them. "It's fine - they're only a few. And hey, at least they both got justice, right? Wilson died, and Volpe..." he looked at his dad and Carlton. "What happened to him?"

"We got some new evidence from a van that originally didn't turn up in the first investigation," Carlton said, looking smug. "Blood from all the previous victims was in there. That and the fact he only recently got out of prison, and his involvement in your kidnap - he's serving two life sentences."

Shawn beamed.

"Two?" Gus questioned. "But isn't the blood in the van circumstantial?"

"We can now definitely link him to three more victims," Lassiter told him. "And they were all cops. Cop killers don't get much sympathy in court. The jury decided in 20 minutes."

Shawn felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He couldn't believe how worried he had felt about his torturers. In his nightmares, Wilson didn't get shot and kept beating him, and Volpe got out early on good behaviour, or escaped. He couldn't do that with two life sentences. He'd be in a high security lockdown.

He felt a hand squeeze his uninjured shoulder - although many of his wounds were healing nicely - and he looked up to receive a small smile from his dad. He smiled back and laid back down on the couch. Snuggling into the blanket that Gus had found for him. "Thanks, man," he whispered to his friend, turning onto his back to get comfortable. His leg was still heavily bandaged.

Lassiter cleared his throat awkwardly. "Now, Spencer; about that psychologist - "

"I wouldn't bother, Carlton," Henry told him softly, a smile on his face.

Shawn had fallen asleep.

Henry pushed himself out of bed and wearily began the trek to Shawn's old room. It had been years since he had done this, and yet in the few days his son had returned to stay to recover, he had been doing it in more and more recently.

He had heard the blankets being shoved to one side, had heard the small moans from his son's room. He opened the door and gently put his hands on Shawn's shoulders.

"Alright, kid - I think you know the drill by now; easy does it," with that, he gingerly moved Shawn over so that he could sit at the side of the bed, with his hands still on his son's shoulders.

"No - please... don't..." Shawn muttered, and Henry winced, because he knew now that after the muttering came the whimpering. And if he wasn't careful or quick enough, after the whimpering came the screaming.

"Please... Dad, please..." Shawn started to whimper now, and Henry kept rubbing at his back. Usually he could get him to quieten, but now he realised he would either have to wake him up, or wait for him to start screaming.

"Shawn - Shawn, wake up, kid - come on, wake up for me," he said softly, patting Shawn's cheeks.

Shawn suddenly leapt up, taking in a large breath as though he hadn't been able to breathe for a few minutes. His eyes were large and frenzied, as he looked around, wondering where Wilson and Volpe had gone. Instead, his eyes latched onto Henry, who was trying to calm him.

"There we go, it's okay, pal - deep breaths," Henry gently coached him, not wincing when Shawn clutched hold of his wrists and refused to stop clinging.

After a while, Shawn's breaths evened out, and he became more calm. He slowly let go of his dad's wrists and gave a small, nervous sounding laugh, pushing his hand through his hair. "Guess I nearly cut off the circulation to your wrists, huh?"

"I'll live," Henry replied, giving him a small smile. "Think you can go back to sleep?"

"Uh, yeah," Shawn gave an embarrassed sounding cough. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks... Night, Dad..."

"Sure, kid," Henry stood up and gave him a small pat on the back before leaving the room.

Shawn huddled back under the covers. All things considered, the nightmares weren't as bad as they could have been. They'd been getting better... He gave a sigh which turned into a pained gasp as he rolled over onto his shoulder. Not only had he already been scarred by this man, the scar was now bigger since it had been cut over it once more. It had been getting fainter, since he'd had it since childhood.

And hey; he thought bitterly - chicks dig scars.

Exactly one month later, Shawn was bounding around the police station, his hair perfectly styled and his manner perfectly annoying enough for Lassiter to want to shoot him. "Lassie, I'm sensing a lot of negative energy around you today," Shawn told him seriously, slurping on a smoothie.

"Maybe it's because it's your first day back here after being cleared by the psychologist and I already wish he'd declared you as incompetent," Carlton snarled. He already had a headache, he really didn't need to talk to the human version of one.

Shawn frowned in a hurt manner, but the Chief shouted from her office: "Mr Spencer, Detective; I have a case you might be interested in."

Shawn beamed in a way that lit up the room, and his eyes shined as he bounded towards the office happily. Lassiter wanted to growl or roll his eyes, but he found himself unable to. He had in fact missed the annoying 'psychic' who had come to be like a member of the department (Not that he'd ever admit it) and after talking to the psychologist, he was happy that Spencer had opened up about what happened and now seemed to have put it behind him.

"Lassie, come quick - the Chief said we're working together! This is sweet, I can finally synchronise my watch with yours!"

He managed a growl and quickly hid his smile as he entered the office.

Aw, Lassie - you know you love him really ;) In a completely non-slash way (Sorry slashfans :P) But yay :D That's it! Finished! Thanks so much to everyone who has read, favourited, reviewed - if you could all review for this last chapter I would appreciate it to heck and back :D

And I wanted to say; it may seem like Shawn has gotten over this ordeal really quickly, but if you notice in the show, he seems to do that alot. He was fine after being shot and kidnapped, and beaten and kidnapped etc etc, so I reckon he can get over something like this relatively easily :)

One more thing, then I'll say goodbye ;) On my profile I have a little idea under my 'Possible future typedy-typings' for a new Psych fic - if you reckon it could turn into someting readable, please pm me and tell me :D Thanks guys - I love you all :)