Chapter Text
The process of getting Shawn on his feet and to Henry’s car was a long one. Shawn kept the blankets, and used the help of Jules and Lassie to get carried to the truck. Henry opened the passenger door, and he and Juliet moved to the driver’s side. Juliet climbed in and helped hoist Shawn inside, and Henry got it and started the car, blasting the heat as high as it could go. Once Juliet got Shawn in, she got out of the truck and into her own car. Carlton got in on the other side of Shawn, so Shawn was squished between Lassie and his dad. Not that he minded, they were both warm.
The ride over was awkward and stuffy. No one knew quite what to say, and no one could agree on a radio station. Shawn was still soaked -- although the blankets absorbed most of the water -- so Henry’s shoulder got a fresh new coat of shower-water when Shawn snuggled up to his arm, basking in his body heat.
They arrived at the house and Lassiter immediately climbed out of the car, giving the father and son some space. Henry put the truck in park and roused Shawn from his impromptu sleep. Shawn groaned and clung to his father’s arm more, and was dragged with Henry as he got out of the car. Lassiter ran over to help Shawn walk, and was surprised when the psychic didn’t immediately push him away. Henry walked up to the door and unlocked it, holding it open for Shawn and Lassie.
Once inside, Henry took Shawn’s other shoulder and gave Lassie a look that said ‘I’ve got it from here.’ to which Lassiter did not object. Carlton moved back to sit on the couch he resided on earlier that night, before everything that had happened.
Henry squoze Shawn’s shoulder, and moved in front of him to meet his eyes, which were drooping from exhaustion much more than before. “Hey, kid. Do you wanna go get some sleep in your bed?” Shawn wordlessly nodded and subconsciously leaned into his father’s grasp.
Henry led the way to his childhood room, which was up the stairs in the kitchen. The stairs were a struggle, as Shawn was already half asleep -- which didn’t help Henry’s worry, as he’d sustained multiple concussions in the past few hours alone.
Once in his room, Shawn immediately fell on the bed with no regard for the fact that he still had his shoes on or that he was still wet. Henry removed his son’s shoes, moved to the closet, and grabbed a towel to wrap around Shawn’s hair, to hopefully get rid of some of the water.
After wrapping and scrubbing Shawn’s head with the towel, Henry moved to his dresser to find something that would hopefully fit. This wasn’t the first time that Shawn had spent the night after a traumatic event he’d experienced while working with the department, so he found some spare PJs his size relatively easily. He laid a pair of light gray sweatpants and a light blue t-shirt down next to Shawn, who was more awake now thanks to the head jostling from Henry’s hair drying.
Shawn met his father’s eyes and saw only fear and concern, so he decided to bring some humor to the situation. “By the way, dad, that is not how you dry hair. No wonder all yours fell out. It went on strike.” They both laughed; Shawn because he was tired, and Henry because he recognized Shawn’s need for humor.
“Need anything else, kid?” Henry knelt next to Shawn, trying not to look as scared as he felt, as he knew Shawn could see it and would try to get rid of it.
Shawn thought for a moment, while rifling through his PJ pile. “Um... Maybe some underwear? Mine are soaked.” Henry smiled and stood to walk back to the dresser. He found a spare pair of boxers and put it on the top of the pile. Henry turned to leave to give Shawn some privacy, but his son interrupted before he could. “Hey, Dad. Tell Lassiter that it wasn’t his fault, and tell him that I don’t blame him.”
“Will do.” Henry smiled and shut the door behind him, leaving Shawn alone to change. He stayed near the door for a few seconds, until he heard movement that didn’t sound like pain. He figured Shawn was changing and left down the stairs to the living room, where he found Carlton sitting on the couch, staring at an empty TV.
Carlton looked distressed, like he was so out of it that his brain wasn’t able to register that his body wanted to cry. He was sitting rim-rod straight on the couch, looking forward, at nothing in particular other than his reflection in the old television.
“Carlton.” The detective turned as quickly as he could, startled by the sudden person behind him.
“Oh, Henry. Hi.” Carlton forced a smile that even someone without training could tell was fake. “I was just about to... watch some TV. Or get some sleep.”
Henry sat down on the couch next to him. “Well, it’s safe to assume that neither of us will be getting adequate sleep tonight. Which episode of Cops were you on?”
“I thought I was annoying you with that.”
“You were. Now which episode were you on?”
“I honestly don’t remember. Season 12, I think.”
“Alright, sounds like a plan. I’ll grab some drinks.” Henry stood and headed off to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and filled it up with water. He opened the fridge, put the water inside, and pulled out two beers. He walked back into the living room and handed Lassiter one.
The pair sat in silence for a brief moment, watching the TV, before Lassie said, “With all due respect, sir, don’t you think you should be getting some rest?”
Henry just shrugged. “Meh. Shawn sometimes gets nightmares after traumatic events. I want to be awake in case he wakes up.”
Lassiter’s mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to come up with a response. He eventually settled on muttering, “Sorry... for getting him wrapped up in all this.”
Henry muted the TV again and whipped towards Carlton. “Do not apologize for what happened.” He sounded angry, but his words were trying to be comforting. The conflicting messages confused Lassiter, and he couldn’t imagine what growing up with Henry as a parent must’ve been like. “You didn’t make Drimmer do what he did. You didn’t throw Shawn in the tub. You didn’t do anything.”
“I hired him on my case.” Lassiter’s gaze didn’t break from the coffee table in front of him. He hung his head in shame before taking a giant gulp of his beer.
Henry sighed, looking up at Shawn’s room before turning back to the detective. “It’s not your fault. He doesn’t blame you. He wanted me to tell you that before he fell asleep.”
The pair went back to watching the TV, neither knowing what to say after that. It wasn’t lost on Henry that Lassiter seemed to have relaxed quite a bit after being told he was free from blame, and actually enveloped himself in the episode.
Their attention was broken from the TV by a piercing scream coming from upstairs. Carlton’s eyes went wide and his hand instinctively moved towards where his holster would be, before he turned towards Henry. Henry was acting relatively calm, moving to set down his beer and turn off the television before standing and wordlessly moving towards the fridge, retrieving a glass of water.
He moved up the stairs, with Lassiter reluctantly following. Once they arrived at Shawn’s childhood room’s door, Henry turned behind him and handed Lassie the cup of water, mouthing for him to ‘hold it.’ to which he did to the best of his ability.
Henry opened the door and was met with Shawn screaming and writhing around on his bed in a mess of tangled blankets. Henry ran to his side without hesitation and gripped his hand and wrist, trying to calm him in any way he could. When that didn’t work, he resorted to speaking.
“Shawn. You’re in your childhood room. You’re not there anymore. You’re safe. You’re fine. Nothing is going to happen to you as long as I’m here, okay? You’re at your old man’s house. You’re in your childhood room...” Henry repeated what he was saying until Shawn seemed to still.
Shawn stopped breathing for a moment before he shot up out of bed, gasping for breath. His free hand was gripping the neck of his shirt, pulling it away from his body in an attempt to give his airways more room. Henry let go of Shawn’s hand and followed his movement upwards, placing his hands on Shawn’s chest and back in a subtle reminder to breathe.
Shawn’s gasping slowly turned to panting, which then turned into rapid breathing. The hand he had wrapped around his shirt slowly moved down to grip his father’s wrist, desperately trying to ground himself.
“Hey, kid. You’re safe, okay?” Shawn slowly started nodding, staring blankly in front of him. Henry leaned forward in concern. “Do you know where you are, kid?”
Shawn sighed. “Physically, I know I’m back at the house. But, mentally, I’m...” Shawn trailed off, but both observers could understand what he meant.
The hand on Shawn’s back slowly moved up to his neck, where his father started massaging it to relieve some tension while he thought. After a moment, Henry said, “Shawn, I need you to close your eyes. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Shawn nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could. Shawn squoze his father’s wrist tighter, and Henry did his best to hide his pained wince.
“Alright, kid. When are you right now?”
Shawn tilted his head to his side, moving his splinted hand up to his forehead, similar to how he acted when he pretended to have a psychic vision. “Um, Drimmer just dragged me out of the tub the first time, and he just put the note on the table before kicking me in the ribs.”
Henry thought for a moment, trying to ignore the tension that just entered the room via Lassiter, who was still in the doorway, watching with fascinated and disturbed awe.
“Alright, kid. Let’s start off small. What surface are you on right now?”
Thinking for a moment, Shawn responded. “Lassie’s kitchen tiles.” Lassiter tensed even more from the side of the room, which Henry tried to ignore.
“Alright, now. I want you to focus on turning the hard tiles into... bread. Can you do that?”
Shawn smiled, “White or wheat?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Henry grinned at his son, who seemed to be doing better. After a moment, he felt the death-grip on his wrist loosen, and his son’s neck lost some tension. “Nice work, kid. Was that enough to leverage you back to reality or do you need another prompt?”
Shawn thought for a moment, squeezing his eyelids closer together. “Um... Another prompt.”
Henry sighed and took a moment to think of a new thing to transform in his brain. “Alright, kid. Is there a frame where you can see Drimmer?”
Shawn immediately tensed back up, but slowly nodded. “Um, yeah. When he was beating me with the baseball bat, I got a pretty good view of him...”
“Alright, kid. Put him in a pink rabbit onesie and make his voice super high pitched. Do you think you can do that?” Henry restarted his attempts to massage Shawn’s neck, which appeared to help somewhat.
Shawn’s eyebrows knit together in tense focus. After a moment, he grinned, releasing the tension in his face. The tension in the rest of his body followed, and the hand to his temple slowly fell back onto the bed. His entire body went limp, and he would have folded himself in half had it not been for Henry’s hand on his chest. Henry slowly lowered his son back onto the bed.
“Hey, kid. You back with us now?” Henry smiled, beaming down on his son, who slowly opened his eyes and focused on his father’s face.
“Yeah, dad. I’m back... How long was it?”
Henry checked his watch. “Um, about 5 minutes. Not too long.” Lassiter internally disagreed. It felt like way too long to try and wake someone up from a nightmare. However, he decided not to get more involved than he needed to.
“5 minutes? What time is it?”
Checking his watch once more, “About 2 in the morning.” Shawn nodded and began to detangle himself from the blanket nest he’d accidentally made. Henry made eye contact with Lassie and motioned him over to Shawn. “Here’s some water, kid.” Lassiter handed the water to Shawn, who gratefully accepted it and drank the entire thing without coming up for air.
“Thanks, Dad... Thanks, Lassie.” Lassiter felt a strange sense of relief and joy swell up within him at Shawn acknowledging him and not being mad. Maybe Henry was right about Shawn not blaming him.
“Anytime, kid. Do you need anything else while we’re here?” Henry helped untangle Shawn, being careful not to jostle his ribs, as he was certain that Shawn’s ribs already felt like they were made out of Jenga blocks and Shawn just wasn’t letting it show.
“No... I think I’m good. Were you two doing anything downstairs?” Shawn turned to Lassiter, including him in the conversation.
“Oh, um. We were watching some Cops.” Carlton still felt a bit responsible, and avoided Shawn’s eyes while he spoke, instead staring at the bedspread and the wall paper.
“Sweet! I’d love to watch some Cops. Could we make some popcorn?” He turned to his father with the biggest and most hopeful puppy dog eyes, only further convincing Lassiter that he was a living cartoon.
Henry chuckled. “Sure. I’ll go get some started. Lassiter, could you help Shawn get down the stairs?” He and Lassiter made brief eye contact. Henry registered the panic in the detective’s eyes, but chose not to care.
Lassiter nodded sharply as Henry left the room. Shawn was still working on detangling the mess he’d made, and was trying to separate the blankets into piles of ‘his’ and piles of ‘Lassies’ . In an awkward gesture of care, Lassiter moved to help. Once the blankets were mostly detached from each other, Carlton helped Shawn stand.
“Are you sure you should be doing... this right now?” Lassiter looked into Shawn’s eyes and only saw the annoying psychic he usually saw. Somehow, Shawn was able to get rid of the panicked and hollow look his eyes had not minutes before.
“Doing what right now, Lassie-frass?” Shawn was feigning innocence. He knew exactly what Lassiter meant. Shawn subconsciously bounced on his toes, something he usually did to put on his happy mask.
“Doing... that.” Carlton vaguely gestured at Shawn. “Acting like everything is fine. Acting like you didn’t just wake up screaming . Acting like it didn’t take you 5 minutes to come down from a nightmare and back to reality.”
Shawn smiled, albeit forced. “Honestly, dude. I’ve been dealing with bad nightmares since I was about 4. This is an almost weekly, if not nightly, occurrence for me. It’s nothing special. Most of the time, I’m able to muddle the dreams enough on my own, tonight was just a bit more... extreme than usual. And, trust me, 5 minutes is nothing. My current record is an hour and 15.”
Shawn started to walk around Lassie, but it wasn’t lost on him the limp that the younger man was doing his best to stifle. “Geez, Spencer. Let me help.” Carlton dove under Shawn’s arm, wrapping it around his shoulders. Before they began their tandem trek to the door, something was irking Lassiter. “If O’Hara was here, would you be telling her the same thing?”
Shawn’s smile dropped, and his tone became slightly less bright. “What do you mean?” Lassiter could feel Shawn’s frame get more tense against his own as they hobbled towards the door.
“I mean, would you be telling her that this is normal for you? It’s obvious you like her. If you wanted to pursue her, she’d probably need to know about your tendency to wake up screaming-”
“First of all, I usually just wake up with rapid breaths, maybe a gasp. Second... She can’t know. She doesn’t need to know. At least not right now...”
After an uncomfortable silence they both created, Lassiter leaned Shawn against the wall in the hallway and stood across from him. “What do you mean she can’t know?” Shawn just stared at him, causing him to growl out an angry “Spencer...”
Taking a deep breath, both in pain and frustration, Shawn answered. “She can’t know because... she’s too pure. I mean... we both care about her enough to know how bright eyed and bushy tailed she is, and how protective she is of her friends. She doesn’t need to know how broken I am. I’ve been dealing with it almost as long as she’s been alive. It’s not worth her worrying about it.” Taking another deep breath and meeting the detective’s eyes for the first time in a while, “Promise me you won’t tell her. Please?”
Carlton let out a quick sigh before offering his arm to Spencer and continuing their trek down the hall. “I can’t promise anything. I won’t say anything unless she asks, but she’s a hell of a detective. The more you try to hide things from her, the sooner she’ll figure it out.”
Henry called up from the living room, “This popcorn isn’t going to get eaten by itself. Hurry up.” Obviously, Henry had heard their entire conversation. Being as protective of Shawn as he is, Henry decided it best not to mention it, knowing that it would only cause more heartache.
The pair made their way down the stairs in record time, aided by gravity. Lassiter walked Shawn over to the couch and placed him between his father and himself. They settled in and watched TV, with Shawn holding the popcorn bowl in his lap, although he didn’t eat much.
They continued to watch TV until the sun came up and Lassiter’s phone buzzed. Carlton checked it and abruptly stood up to leave, grabbing his shoes and frantically putting them on.
Henry muted the TV. “What’s going on?”
Lassiter smiled. “Drimmer confessed to everything. O’Hara asked if I wanted to be the one to bring him down to the transport bus. I said yes.” He shot the father and son a quick smile before speeding through his ‘thanks’s and ‘goodbye’s.
Once Lassiter left, Henry turned to his son. “I told you you weren’t being discreet with your little crush on O’Hara.”
Shawn rolled his eyes and playfully threw a handful of popcorn at his father, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I hold enough things against Lassiter, it’s only fair he gets something to hold against me for once.”
The pair went back to watching TV, switching the station to morning cartoons. A few minutes passed before Henry spoke again. “You are going to have to tell her eventually. You know that, right? If you do want to eventually date her, it might be beneficial for her to know you sometimes get stuck in the darker corners of your mind.”
Mindlessly, Shawn replied, “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” But both he and his father could read between the lines and understood what Shawn was really saying: ‘I know. I just can’t. Not yet.’
Once they got sick of cartoons, Henry got up to make some lunch while Shawn called his mother, asking for tips on how to best let a potential partner know that he sometimes got kidnapped by his brain in the middle of the night. She didn’t have any good advice other than just telling her, but at least the grilled cheese Henry made was good enough to lift his sunken spirits.