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"Gus, I see a bright light. I think I should go towards it," Shawn says, trying to sound somewhat lighthearted even though his head is pounding and the edges of his vision are going gray. This is not good, not good at all. Somehow he managed to catch Prescott's attention, which is really not surprising considering how blatantly he had been flirting with Gillian.
"Okay, stop playing, Shawn." Gus sounds unimpressed. Also, he sounds like he's really far away, which Shawn thinks is maybe probably not good.
"I'm going," Shawn tries to say, but it comes out as almost a gasp. "Take care of my Great Dane, Lothar." Why is he still making jokes? He could be dying, right now, and his brain is apparently making jokes.
"You don't have a Great Dane, Shawn," Gus says, sounding a little concerned. Gus is swimming in and out of focus, and Shawn feels like there's a sudden absence of oxygen in the room.
"Get a Great Dane, name him Lothar," he manages. What he really needs is most likely an ambulance, but he's pretty sure he's in shock and he's still making jokes.
"Okay, what are you talking about?"
Shawn gets to his feet, leaning heavily on the desk in front of him. "I was poisoned, buddy, I'm sure of it. But I know who killed me!" Even his own voice sounds far away now, but at least he's finally saying what he needs to. "Remember: it was Prescott who killed me." As he says it, he realizes it doesn't quite make sense (why would Prescott kill those guys?), but before he can say that his legs give out completely. His vision, and consciousness, follow shortly thereafter.
Gus sits by Shawn's hospital bed, head in hands. The doctor had told him that these next twelve hours were critical, and that, if anything, it would be how soon they were able to treat it that would determine it.
If he had figured out that Shawn hadn't been joking earlier, that might determine life and death. Gus doesn't like that. What if he ends up being responsible for Shawn dying because he thought it was just another one of the other man's stupid tricks?
Gus almost starts crying. What will he even do if Shawn dies? He has the job with Central Coast, but Psych always brings in just a little extra. Besides that, there would be the matter of his best friend being dead.
There's a knock on the door, and Mr. Spencer comes in, followed by Jules and Lassiter. They all look somber, even Lassie, although that's how he usually looks.
"We just got two reports in. Clive Prescott is dead, and also the other twenty-year-old who was at that party," Lassiter explains, but Henry and Jules immediately go to Shawn's bed.
"How is he?" Henry asks. It takes Gus a second to find his voice.
"He's...kind of stable right now. They don't really know if he'll make it, not yet," Gus answers.
"We have an investigation to take care of?" Lassie interjects, about as sensitively as is possible for him, which isn't very sensitively at all, but at least he kind of tries.
"My son is..." Henry closes his eyes, and if Gus didn't know any better he'd say Henry was holding back tears. "My son is very possibly dying, Detective, please don't." Carlton has the grace to look somewhat ashamed.
Jules is just staring at Shawn, a strange expression on her face. "Let-let us know if his condition changes."
Gus just nods. "Go catch the person who did this."
Juliet feels sick, even though she isn't the one possibly dying in a hospital bed. Shawn was--no, is, she corrects--invulnerable.
"O'Hara."
He's just so full of life.
"O'Hara."
And she has so much she wants to tell him...
"Detective O'Hara."
With a start, she realizes that Carlton is talking to her, has been for about a minute now. "Uh, sorry," she says. "I was just...zoning out."
Lassiter, however, isn't listening. "So it's not Prescott."
"Well, obviously not."
"I still think it's Gillian."
Jules sighs. Carlton has this tendency to stick to a theory no matter what, which is usually fine. In this case, however, with nothing to support it, he needs to let it go. "She wasn't at the restaurant," she points out, "and she has no real reason to want Prescott dead."
Carlton scowls. "Fine, fine. Who would have had access to all the drinks?"
There's something in the back of Jules's mind that has the solution, she knows it, but she just can't concentrate right now. She hadn't even known she was this attached to Shawn. "I don't know."
"Well, we should figure it out, shouldn't we?" Jules knows he isn't trying to be harsh, but that doesn't help.
"Yeah, okay."
I shouldn't have been so hard on him, Henry thinks as he stares at the witness lists. It's not like it's his fault that Shawn is...in his current situation, but that doesn't stop him from feeling guilty about how he had treated his son before. Would it really have killed him to be nicer occasionally?
When was the last time he had told Shawn he loved him?
That thought stops him short for a second. He has no idea. If Shawn...dies, he may well do it without knowing that his dad, his dad, loves him.
He forces himself to stop and looks back at the witness lists. He isn't technically supposed to be working on any cases, but he doubts Karen will stop him. He needs to feel like he's doing something.
After staring for a while, something finally jumps out at him. Eugenia. She was at the party, with Prescott at the restaurant and Shawn at the other, and one of the statements says that one of the people at the front desk saw a woman who matches Eugenia's description in the gym. He doesn't know motive or means yet, but that sure gives her opportunity.
"Lassiter!" he calls. The head detective looks up. "I have something on the poisonings."
Lassiter comes over and crosses his arms. "You do realize that you're not a detective anymore, right?"
"How could I forget when you're so fond of reminding me?"
"You don't get to work cases, Spencer. You work with consultants."
"So you don't want the lead?"
Lassiter sighs. "Fine. What is it?"
"Eugenia Smith."
"The purple-haired one who's always hanging around Gillian?"
"That's the one."
Lassiter frowns. "What about her?"
"She was at all of the places where the victims were most likely poisoned."
"If this is just an emotion-driven accu-" He trails off as Henry stands up, staring him right in the eye. "O'Hara and I will go check her out."
Carlton doesn't really understand why everyone is having such a hard time. Sure, Spencer is in the hospital, and Carlton's planning on doing everything he can to bring the killer to justice, but it's like the others aren't functioning quite right. Maybe he isn't normal, he thinks, then shrugs. He knows he isn't normal.
He parks his car in front of Gillian Michaels's house (which is more like a mansion, honestly) and gets out. It had taken almost an hour to find an address for this Eugenia woman. A quick perusal of Gillian's file had shown, however, that they live together. Carlton has a vague suspicion that Henry might be right in blaming her. If Gillian were to get married or even just have a man move in, Eugenia would probably get kicked out. Since she's basically penniless, living off of Gillian's charity, that would be a disaster.
O'Hara knocks on the door, which is almost immediately opened by Eugenia. "SBPD," O'Hara says, showing her badge. "We'd like to ask you some questions about the recent murders."
There seems to be a flash of fear in Eugenia's eyes, but maybe Carlton is just imagining things. "Is there anyone who can confirm your whereabouts yesterday at eleven twenty AM?" he asks.
"I-I was here."
"Really?" O'Hara raises an eyebrow. She seems fiercer than usual. "Because we have an eyewitness who places you at the gym where Gabe was found dead."
Without warning, Eugenia bolts back into the house. "Hey! Stop!" Carlton calls after her, pulling his gun. Before he actually gets to chasing her, though, she runs straight into Gillian and they both tumble to the floor.
"I'd say that counts as an admission of guilt," O'Hara says. Carlton reluctantly puts his gun away and instead takes out his handcuffs.
He grabs Eugenia before she can make a run for it again and pulls her upright. "Eugenia Smith, you're under arrest for the murders of Lance Jones, Gabriel Dealy, and Clive Prescott and the attempted murder of Shawn Spencer."
"He's not dead?" she says in surprise, then immediately realizes her mistake. Gillian's just staring.
"You killed all those people?" she says eventually.
"I did it for you!"
"What do you mean, for me?"
"You deserve better than them!" Eugenia exclaims. "You deserve me!"
Gillian's mouth falls into a perfect O. "Take her."
Eugenia looks incredibly hurt. "You have the right to remain silent," Carlton says, deciding this has gone on long enough. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."
The phone rings, and Henry tears himself away from the game long enough to reach for it. "Hello?"
"Henry Spencer?" A woman's voice, unfamiliar, comes through the speaker.
"That's right."
"You're listed as an emergency contact for Shawn Spencer. Is that correct?"
Henry feels a sinking dread in his stomach. It's been six days since Shawn was put in the hospital, six uncertain days of regretting the past. He doesn't think he'll be able to take it if Shawn isn't going to be okay. "It is," he affirms, bracing for the worst.
"He's awake."
"He's awake?" Henry lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
"That's right, sir. The doctors say there's a good chance he'll make it," she explains. "Visiting hours are over for today, but you can come see him tomorrow. Anytime from ten to four thirty is okay."
"Okay. Thank you." Shawn's probably going to be okay. "Have a nice evening."
"You too, sir." She hangs up.
Henry sighs in relief and immediately dials Gus's number.
Shawn feels vaguely like his head is stuffed with cotton, but at least he's awake. And alive. The staff told him that they notified his dad, and also that visiting hours start in a few minutes.
He hopes Jules comes.
Why does he care so much that Jules comes? Never mind, he knows that.
Before he can fantasize at all, the door opens and his dad and Gus come in. His dad almost looks like he's been crying, but that's ridiculous. His dad doesn't cry.
"You guys look like you've just seen someone who thinks Jar Jar Binks is a useful character," he manages. His dad suddenly hugs him. "Oh, it wasn't that funny, come on. A three. Maybe a four."
"I love you, Shawn," his dad says gruffly.
Shawn makes a face--his dad has a really a tight grip--but smiles a little. "Okay. I love you too, Dad?" Why is he saying this now?
His dad backs off. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've been bludgeoned and microwaved, possibly at the same time." Shawn suddenly remembers his revelation, the one just before he passed out. "Eugenia did it," he blurts.
"We know."
"Oh. Well." Shawn raises an eyebrow. "Have I been replaced?"
"Of course not."
"Good." He turns his attention away from his dad. "Gus! Come over here and let me rub that sweet, sweet head."
Gus rolls his eyes but walks over. "You're not touching my head, Shawn."
"You have no sympathy for an injured crusader."
"Shawn."
"Gus."
Gus finally smiles. "Glad you're okay."
"Thanks, buddy."
A doctor comes in, clipboard in hand. "Excuse me, but the patient needs to rest," she says, not unsympathetically.
"We just got here!" Shawn's dad begins to protest, but the doctor fixes him with a death glare ands he withdraws. "Yes, ma'am."
Shawn actually is pretty tired--probably what comes out of being poisoned--even though he's only been awake for an hour or so. Gus and his dad leave, and he immediately falls back asleep.
This time when he wakes up, it's not his dad or Gus but in fact Jules who's standing by his bed. Before he can come up with a good remark, she's hugging him even tighter than his dad did. "Whoa," Shawn says. "I need to breathe."
Jules pulls away immediately. "Sorry. I just...I-I'm glad you're okay."
Shawn checks to ensure that his ribs are still intact. "Thanks."
"You know when I was in the hospital because we thought I had Thornberg?" she blurts suddenly.
"Yes?"
"And you had this whole speech about cereal boxes and waiting but you couldn't finish because Gus interrupted?"
Shawn just nods. Of course he remembers, that's the closest he's ever gotten to telling Jules how he feels.
"Well, I think I know what you were going to say." Jules seems like she's on a roll, so Shawn doesn't say anything else. Besides, he's already exhausted, which is ridiculous. "You were talking about how you were waiting for me, weren't you? How we've been co-workers for four and a half years and you've loved me this whole time?"
Shoot. "Yes?" Shawn replies cautiously. He'd love to say more, but he's tired, and he doesn't want to interrupt Jules.
"Well, you were here in the hospital and I was thinking and I realized that you could die and we've been dancing around this for four ands a half freaking years so..." She takes a deep breath, and Shawn inadvertently holds his as well. "Shawn, I love you."
"I know," he says with his best Han Solo face. Jules laughs.
"The doctor told me I could only be in here for a few minutes, so I, uh, I have to go."
"Wait, Jules," Shawn calls just before she reaches the door. She turns back. "I love you too."