Hi guys :) So, I'm taking a bit of a risk with this one; I hope you all enjoy it anyways – and obviously Shawn will be OOC :P Well, I'm hoping he seems like he does in the flashbacks, but younger ;) And yes, I know I already have my NCIS fic on the go as well, but I've lost my plot bunny for a moment, so I thought I'd use this one for a while :)
"Shawn – come over here."
Five year old Shawn Spencer looked over to the front door, where his dad was grabbing a jacket.
"Are we going to the park?" He asked excitedly, bouncing over.
"Not exactly," Henry replied, pulling a jacket onto his son. "Let's just get this on you – your mom'll kill me if you get a cold," it was October, and very chilly for a Santa Barbara afternoon.
"Are we getting ice cream?" Shawn asked, holding his dad's hand as they left the house.
"Nope," they crossed the road and walked through a park.
"Can I play in the – " Shawn began, before Henry cut him off.
"Nope – pay attention, Shawn," Henry knelt before him. "You're old enough now to start training."
"So you can become a cop, just like your old man," Henry told him. "Sure we did the memory games when you were little, but it's time to up it now – I want you to focus, and as we walk through this park, I want you to remember every single hat we see."
"Why?" Shawn asked, confused.
"So you can not only become a cop, but you can be a good one," his dad replied. "Ready?"
Shawn looked ready to cry at the unfairness of not being allowed to do anything fun at the park, but nodded and grimly and started looking around, trying to memorise everything.
"Spencer, just because I agreed to you coming with us does not mean that you get to sit in the back and talk to me," Lassiter ground out, his fingers twitching as he desperately wanted to either wrap them around their 'psychic's neck or the butt of his gun.
"Aw, Lassie – that's the thanks I get after leading you here?" Shawn frowned from the back seat. "I could've kept my visions to myself, but I brought you here out of a fit of civil duty!"
Juliet rolled her eyes from where she was sat in the passenger seat in Lassiter's car. They were staking out a warehouse that Shawn had indeed led them to, hoping to find the leader of a ring of drug dealers. Shawn had called them in the middle of the night, and had been waiting for them at the police station, annoying Carlton until he had agreed to letting Shawn drive with them – they did, after all, need his instructions to take them to the right warehouse.
However, Juliet could see that Lassiter was ruing this decision. She could practically hear the grinding of his teeth.
"Spencer – the only reason you are here, is – " Lassiter paused, seeing movement from inside the warehouse. "O'Hara," he muttered, and both detectives slid out of the car in one fluid motion.
"Shawn, stay in the car," Juliet whispered, before crouching slightly and following Lassiter, her weapon drawn.
Shawn sighed and slid down in the seat dramatically. He started looking round, amusing himself by imagining crimes that could have occurred there by glancing at any rubbish or marks in the alleyway the car was stationed in. He spotted some thin wire, and was just thinking that maybe someone had been garrotted, when a gleam caught his eye near the entrance of the warehouse.
Trip wire, he thought, and leapt out of the car.
Lassiter whipped around. "Spencer," he hissed, "go back to the car."
"Stop moving!" He yelled, causing Juliet to freeze. "There's a trip wire at the door!"
Juliet looked down in alarm and backed away a few feet. Lassiter too looked down, and swore quietly. "I doubt there's anyone in there," he growled. "And even if there had been, they'll be long gone after hearing someone yelling at the top of his voice."
"I saved your life!" Shawn argued, stepping back in case Lassie got annoyed enough to push him through the wire.
"Just be quiet and go back to the car, Spencer," Lassiter ordered, examining the wire. "It doesn't look like it could be tripped by me opening the door," he said to himself, and cautiously pushed himself upright from where he had crouched to examine it.
"You want to go in now or should I call the bomb squad?" Juliet asked breathlessly.
"I've got this, O'Hara," Carlton told her, slowly pushing the door open. Shawn watched from behind his hands, his fingers fanned out so he could quickly prevent himself from seeing if he wanted to.
All three held their breaths, but after five seconds and no explosion, Shawn looked properly. The door was wide open, and the trip wire still in place. Lassiter carefully walked over it, followed by Juliet. Shawn pondered for a second before jumping over it as well, creeping behind the two detectives. "O'Hara," Lassiter whispered. "Do you see anything on your end?" Both of them were looking different ways.
"It all seems clear," she replied, and they stood there, with Lassiter looking both bored and furious.
"You get me here in the middle of the night and there isn't even anyone here?" He spat out at Shawn.
"Hey, ease off, Lassie!" Shawn held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Does the trip wire not mean anything?"
"It's probably a fake," Lassiter argued.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you, Detective," a voice said from the shadows. "Pity you got here earlier than I thought you would. Was almost finished packing," a man stepped out into the light cast by the moon outside and grinned at them, holding a suitcase in one hand, and a gun in the other.
"You're in charge of this?" Lassiter growled, holding his gun out in front of him.
"Unfortunately yes," the man replied. "I was going to leave and watch you all blow up so you wouldn't see my face – that backfired, didn't it?"
Shawn watched avidly. Lassie seemed to be in a kind of western standoff with this guy, and thought quickly to try and do something. Looking around, his keen eye spotted several small bombs around the room that would no doubt be tripped by the wire. He grinned slightly as he saw there was one directly above the drug dealer. If he could set them off, then the blast could be enough to knock the man unconscious. Before he did anything, he double checked for extras. He couldn't see any directly above or next to him or the detectives.
Making up his mind, as the man pointed his gun at Juliet, Shawn rooted around in his pocket and could only find his phone.
Dad's going to kill me, he winced, throwing his phone at the wire.
The explosion rocked the room, as both Lassiter and Juliet instinctively threw themselves to the ground. A large piece of rock ceiling dislodged and fell to the ground, just missing the drug dealer. However, it pinned his leg, and he collapsed to the floor in agony.
After numerous crumbling walls had stopped moving, Juliet and Carlton glanced up. "Spencer!" Lassiter yelled. "Why did you do that? You could have killed us all!" He rounded on the psychic, only to find he was crumpled on the floor, a sizeable chunk of ceiling next to his head. That, along with his pale face, the bruise on his forehead and the dripping blood made Lassiter stop in his tracks. "O'Hara we need an ambulance right now!" He told her. He looked over to see her stood there, her hand over her mouth in shock. "Juliet," he said seriously.
She shook her head. "Right, I'll call it."
Carlton checked Shawn over and couldn't find any other injuries. He tried to shake the other man into consciousness but wasn't having any luck. "Spencer," he said softly. "If you don't wake up your father'll kill me," he told him.
"'M Dad?" Shawn mumbled quietly. He hadn't exactly roused; it seemed more like he was talking in his sleep than anything.
"They're here!" Juliet exclaimed, leading them carefully through the wreckage. "A bus was already close to us – someone reported the explosion; and I called for backup," Lassiter nodded and stepped back as the medics assessed Shawn. He took this time to stand by the drug dealer who had caused this, who at that moment was whimpering in pain.
"My leg…" he groaned, clutching at said appendage.
Lassiter smirked and got out his handcuffs, dangling them in front of the injured man. "I can't wait to slap these on you."
"Carlton!" Juliet called. "They're taking him in now – do you want to process the scene or go with him?"
"We'll stay here," Lassiter told her, "and wait for backup."
"How could you let my son go into there?" Henry raged at both Juliet and Carlton as they arrived at the hospital. "You said you saw the trip wire – why did you let him go with you?"
"I told him to wait in the car," Lassiter argued. "Besides, he was the one who told us about the wire," he didn't look very happy to be relaying this information.
Henry did a double take. "He saw it? And he still went it," this wasn't a question; he sounded more exasperated than angry.
"How is he?" Juliet asked.
"Unconscious," Henry replied, walking them into Shawn's room. "The doctors think he'll wake up soon though."
Gus was sat next to the bed, looking more worried than usual (Lassiter only ever saw him when he was with Spencer, so it stood to reason he always looked worried). He looked up as they walked in. "He's been moving a bit more," he told Henry. "The doctor said that might mean he'll wake up any time now."
All four of them looked at Shawn, as if he would wake up there and then. Apart from some vague mumbling that they didn't understand and his hands and head occasionally twitching, he stayed silent and still. Henry sighed and went to sit on a chair next to the bed.
"We might be here for a while," he said to the two detectives. "If you want to stay they have more chairs at the nurses' station."
After half an hour, Shawn's eyes opened blearily.
"Shawn?" Henry said, pressing the call button for the doctor.
"Dad?" He mumbled, looking confused. "What happened to your hair?"
"Very funny," he grumbled, already annoyed at his son and he had only been conscious for three seconds.
The doctor strode into the room. "Shawn," she said, smiling. "How do you feel?"
"My head hurts," he whimpered, causing Gus to frown. He'd never heard Shawn whimper before.
"We can't give you much for it because it's a head wound, but I'm confident that you'll be up and out of here tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" He whined.
"I'd like to keep you in for observation overnight," she told him, still smiling.
"Can my mom stay?" He asked worriedly.
Henry frowned, giving the doctor a concerned look. "Shawn?"
"Where is she?" He asked, looking around slowly. "And who are all these people?"
"You don't recognise them, Shawn?" The doctor asked, scribbling something down on a clipboard. "What about him?" She pointed to Henry.
"That's my dad," he told her easily.
"Good – what about him?" She now pointed to Gus, knowing they had been friends for years.
"Not really," he said slowly, squinting at him. "Although he kinda looks like one of my friends."
"I am your friend, Shawn," Gus told him earnestly, not missing the worried looks Juliet and Henry had on their faces.
"I don't know you…" Shawn whispered, wondering if he'd done something wrong. "But if my friend Gus was old, I think he'd look like you."
"What?" Both Henry and Gus exclaimed.
"How do you mean 'old', Shawn?" The doctor asked, looking too intrigued in Henry's opinion. "How old are you?"
"Answer the question, Shawn," Henry told him, looking at him in worry.
"Five," he answered, not noticing the gasp made by Juliet or the looks on everyone else's faces.
"I see," the doctor said. "Shawn, I'm going to call one of my colleagues in here to talk to you – is that okay?"
Shawn looked over at Henry, who was still sitting there in shock. "I guess."
She nodded at him and left. An awkward, stunned silence filled the room. "Dad?" Shawn said quietly. "Dad, are – are you mad at me?"
Henry looked at him, managing to say something after Juliet elbowed him in the back. "No, Shawn, no I'm not."
"Why am I in the hospital?" He asked, still keeping a quiet tone in case one of the 'adults' was mad at him.
"You don't remember?" Gus asked quickly, scared of what the hit on the head had done to his best friend' brain.
Shawn looked at him weirdly; obviously still wondering why there were so many strangers in his room. "I just remember getting hit on the head. It really hurts," he winced and went to rub at the sore part, before having his hand taken away softly by Juliet.
"Touching it will make it hurt more," she told him.
"Okay," he whispered, looking down at his knees in sadness. Where was his mom? And why was dad acting so strange?
Unable to stand the silence, Juliet put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm Juliet O'Hara – I'm a detective with the SBPD."
"So you work with my dad?" He asked, trusting her – dad always said to trust cops.
"Uh," she looked at Henry, wondering what to say. "Sometimes," that seemed a safe answer.
"Hi, Miss O'Hara," he said politely, with a quick look at Henry to make sure his dad saw this exhibition of manners.
"You can call me Juliet," she told him, already slightly in love with this quieter, more polite version of Shawn. "Or you can just call me Jules," she added, knowing she would miss the nickname if it wasn't used.
"Okay," he beamed at her.
After getting elbowed by Juliet (who seemed to be doing this a lot), Lassiter spoke: "I'm Head Detective Carlton Lassiter," he said, drawing himself up to an impressive height. "You can call me Detective Lassiter. Clear?"
"Uh, sure," Shawn said, wary of the tall, slightly scary cop.
"Or Lassie," Gus chipped in, making Shawn turn around to face his friend.
"Like the dog?" Shawn asked, confused.
"Yeah, it's his name shortened," Gus told him, smiling.
"Guster!" Lassiter growled. He hated that name.
"That's my friend Gus's name too!" Shawn said excitedly.
"Yeah – you can call me Gus too," it felt odd, introducing himself to his best friend.
"Okay," Shawn replied happily, feeling much more at ease with Gus than Lassiter.
At that moment, a new doctor walked into the room. "Hello," he beamed at Shawn. "I'm Doctor Harvey; your other doctor said you got hit on the head?"
"Yeah," Shawn replied nervously. "But I don't remember it."
"That's alright," Dr Harvey soothed him. "Can you tell me what year it is?"
"1982," Shawn replied, fidgeting in the bed.
"I see," the doctor said, scratching at his head with his pen. "Mr. Spencer, can I see you outside?" Henry nodded and got up to follow.
"Dad?" He froze. Very rarely had he heard Shawn sound like that. Whining yes, but this wasn't a whine. It sounded pleading, worried. He sounded scared.
"I'll be right outside, Shawn," he told his son, still feeling odd to talk to him in such a gentle voice.
"Do you want to hear about some of the cases we do, Shawn?" Juliet asked him softly, to get his mind off being left in a roomful of 'strangers'.
"Okay," he replied quietly, shuffling up in bed a bit more to look at her.
Outside, Dr Harvey was talking to Henry. "Mr. Spencer, it seems that Shawn is suffering from post-traumatic amnesia – although usually this is just forgetting what happened just before and after an accident, it seems Shawn is missing about 25 years."
"Obviously!" Henry snarled at the doctor. "What do we do?"
"Well this is a very rare case; although there are those who would want to study him; write a paper, I'm happy to say I'm not one of those psychologists. Although overnight observation is good, I would say you should take him home, and try to show him things that would trigger memories."
"How long is this going to last?" Henry asked, glancing into the room to see Shawn giggling quietly at something Juliet had just said.
"It's impossible to tell. I'd like to do some scans to make sure there is no significant brain trauma, but after that you can take him home tomorrow."
"You're not answering my questions!" Henry hissed. "Is he ever going to remember the last 25 years of his life?"
"I think it's likely," Dr Harvey replied shortly.
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" He asked. "Do we tell him he's not really five?"
"I wouldn't," the doctor advised. "It could do more harm than good. Treat him like you did when he was actually five; if there is no change at all in about a week come back to the hospital and we'll rethink."
"How will I know if there is actually any change?" Henry asked.
"It could manifest itself as anything," Dr Harvey replied. "He could say something that he would only understand as an adult, he could have dreams about what has happened in his life; his motor skills will probably be the same as they had been when he was five, so if they start to improve then I have faith that he will remember."
Henry sighed but nodded, looking at his son. He should probably call his mother and tell her. But then she'd probably insist on staying until he was better. However much he still cared for her, Henry didn't want to live with her again – he knew they would just get into more fights.
"I'll check on him before you leave tomorrow; be sure to take him somewhere familiar – you can take him for a while, I presume?"
"Yes," Henry replied, not even pausing to think about it.
"Good," Dr Harvey nodded. "In that case, I will see you tomorrow," he strode away. Henry wasn't sure whether he liked that man or not. It was good that he wasn't exploiting Shawn, but he did seem more interested in how Shawn's brain worked than if he was going to recover.
He stepped back into the hospital room. "Dad, Jules said that when I'm better I can come visit at the station," he beamed at this.
"We'll see," he muttered, still thinking about what the doctor had said.
"I called the chief and told her what happened," Lassiter said. "She wanted to know what had actually gone down in that warehouse."
"Did you tell her about… Shawn's injuries?" Henry asked carefully.
"Yeah – she's quite interested," Lassiter looked disgusted, as if he didn't see how anyone could be interested in a mentally-regressed Shawn Spencer. "I think she's letting the department know, so no one slips up if they talk to him."
Henry nodded. He had forgotten how popular Shawn was at the station. Of course people would try and talk to him.
"Dad – can I have some pineapple?" Shawn pleaded from his spot on the bed.
Henry couldn't help but snort. Clearly some things don't change.
So, please tell me what you thought, and whether you think it's worth continuing :) I would like at least 6 or 7 reviews before I post another chapter, so if you read it and liked it, please review :)