Chapter Text
“You did a lot better today."
Shawn said nothing, only nodding in response, knowing Sir wouldn't notice. His back was turned while he stood at the table, polishing his knife.
Shawn shifted, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders. His handcuffs clinked behind his back, and he eyed Sir carefully, hoping the noise didn't bother him.
It apparently didn't, because he finished polishing the knife and headed for the set of stools in the corner. "Not perfect," he said. "But better."
He sat down on his favorite stool, and Shawn wondered whether Sir would notice if he switched their placements while he wasn't around. Sir patted the top of the stool in front of him. "Come, now. Don't leave me waiting."
He thought of those cool action movie scenes where someone could jump straight from their knees to their feet and rush an opponent while they were blindsided. Surveying his options, though, he admitted to himself that he was not an athlete, and given the knife in Sir's hand, an attempt would do him more harm than good, even if he didn't give himself a concussion just trying to jump up.
So instead, he slowly rolled his weight forward and placed a foot underneath him, standing and making his way to his designated stool. He sat with his back to Sir, just as he was taught to.
"Good," Sir said.
Shawn heard the stool scrape against the ground, and Sir appeared in front of him, hands reaching for the button-up shirt Shawn was wearing. "Only six today," Sir assured him, undoing the few buttons on Shawn’s shirt that were still fastened. For easy access, he assumed. "It'll go fast."
Sir finished with the shirt, disappearing behind Shawn. Sir gently tugged the shirt off his shoulders, and it fell loosely to his wrists, only held up by the handcuffs.
The stool behind him scraped against the floor again. "Now let's see…"
Shawn braced himself.
"One for ignoring me this morning."
He felt one hand on his back, holding him steady while the knife dug in. It made a small, vertical slice next to a row of healing scabs from the last three days. Shawn winced, but stayed quiet.
He didn't even remember that mistake. Sir must have said something while he was still asleep.
"One for speaking out of turn during breakfast," Sir said. The knife made another incision next to the first one.
Shawn remembered this mistake. Sir had forgotten to uncuff him after bringing him breakfast. Shawn had simply pointed out that he couldn't eat with the cuffs on.
"Another for ignoring me."
Shawn frowned. That one didn't seem fair. When it happened, Sir had already been talking for close to fifteen minutes, and how was he supposed to know he had to listen to all of it?
The knife found its way into a tender spot between his shoulder blades, and he let loose a quiet yelp before he could stop it.
"That's another one," Sir said. "And you were doing so well, too."
Shawn gritted his teeth, riding silently through the rest of his punishment. When Sir finished, he had added seven new cuts to Shawn’s back, bringing the new total up to…
Shawn closed his eyes, trying to remember yesterday's final number and add seven more.
One hundred and fourteen. He now had one hundred and fourteen mistakes carved into his back. Shawn was impressed with himself that he'd kept up with the number for so long.
"That's all for today," Sir said. "I told you it would go fast."
Shawn felt his shirt slide back up his arms and over his shoulders. Sir came back into his view and fastened only two buttons, this time choosing the one at the very top and one towards the middle.
Shawn, who usually preferred to leave the top two buttons undone, frowned uncomfortably at the tightness in his collar. He said nothing, though, because a comment like that would definitely end up carved into his back.
Sir picked up his clipboard, where he documented all of Shawn's mistakes, and headed for the door. He turned around at the threshold and looked at him. Shawn looked at the floor.
"Goodnight," Sir said.
It seemed he had forgotten about dinner again. Shawn chose not to remind him. Not after last time. Instead, he answered, "goodnight, sir."
Shawn heard the door close, and he relaxed. He was alone for the rest of the night. No more mistakes until morning, as long as he stayed quiet and didn't make a mess for Sir to discover later.
He looked down at his shirt, the collar rubbing uncomfortably against his neck in the process. He looked lower and realized Sir hadn't lined up the other button, leaving the shirt hanging lopsided on his body. He couldn't even fix it, much less mention it tomorrow.
He hopped off his stool, stumbled to the mat designated to be his bed, and flopped down onto it. He had a towel, presumably to use as a blanket, but with his hands still cuffed behind his back, he found it nearly impossible to spread the towel over him, so he rolled it up as best as he could and used it as a pillow instead.
He rolled onto his stomach, resting his head on the towel and waiting for sleep.
o0o
He woke up suddenly, blinking away his grogginess and deflating when he discovered himself still in the same room he fell asleep in.
He fell back down onto his towel pillow when the sound of footsteps approached the door. He scrambled to sit up before the door was thrown open.
"Good morning," Sir said, holding up two plates of food. "I brought breakfast."
"Good morning, sir," Shawn answered.
Sir smiled, seeming pleased by Shawn's response. He came closer to the mat and set a steaming plate of food in front of Shawn.
While Sir dug through his pockets for the handcuff keys, Shawn studied the plate. It had a hard-fried egg, a sausage patty, half a piece of plain toast, and a small cup of yogurt. His mouth watered at the assortment.
He heard a click, and the cuffs loosened around one of his wrists. Another click, and his hands were free. He stretched out their stiffness, waiting for permission to go for the food.
Sir sat down across from him with his own identical plate of food. "Well," he said. "Let's eat."
Shawn did not need to be told twice. He grabbed a fork and put almost half the egg in his mouth. He chewed it and swallowed without having time to taste it, quickly grabbing another bite.
He glanced at Sir, who was taking a calmer approach to his meal. He took precious time to cut his egg into small pieces. Shawn had moved on to the sausage before Sir took his first bite.
Shawn finished his meal quickly, glancing at Sir's plate to see that it was still almost full. He knew that Sir liked to eat in silence, so he sat and waited. He still had his hands free, so he drummed quietly on his lap while Sir ate his yogurt. It didn't seem to bother him.
His shirt collar still felt tight on his neck, and he realized he could do something about it this time, so he reached up and undid the top button, feeling instantly better. He moved his hands down to fasten the button underneath instead when
"I didn't say you could mess with your shirt."
Sir was staring at him, an unmistakable angry expression on his face. Shawn immediately let his hands fall back to his sides. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Put it back the way I had it."
"Yes, sir."
While Shawn fastened the top button again, Sir pulled out his clipboard and scribbled something on the paper. "That's one," he said. "Let's try to keep the number low today, alright?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." Sir stood up, plucking the handcuffs off of the table and kneeling behind Shawn. Shawn put his hands behind his back to make it easier for him as Sir snapped the cuffs back on. Once again, he made both of them tight enough to bruise bones. Shawn winced, but made no protest.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
Shawn's heart sped up as he racked his brain for his mistake, trying to catch it before Sir could write it down. He spotted the plate in front of him.
"Thank you for breakfast, sir," he blurted out, a moment too late. He heard scribbling behind him and deflated.
"You're welcome," Sir said. He shook the chain between the handcuffs to make sure they were secure before grabbing his clipboard and the plates. He left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Shawn backed into a corner and rested one shoulder on each wall, letting his hands rest in the space between them. On his second day here, he'd learned that this was the most comfortable way to sit with his hands cuffed behind his back.
He listened for movement outside and heard nothing, so in this brief moment of safety, he closed his eyes and imagined that he was anywhere but here.
o0o
He was eight, riding his bike along the beach with Gus when he heard a gunshot. He opened his eyes and searched frantically around the room, but he was still alone.
He heard voices down the hall. Large, commanding voices that didn't belong to Sir.
"Clear!"
Many sets of footsteps arrived at his door. Everything fell silent for a moment.
The door blew off its hinges.
Shawn flinched and backed against the wall as three people entered, all of them with guns, and two of them pointed at him.
They studied him for a moment. Lowering their guns, the one in the back turned to the door and shouted "Clear!" while another reached for their radio.
"We found a hostage," they said.
It was then that Shawn realized the intruders were wearing SWAT uniforms. The one who shouted stayed at the door while the others came closer. Shawn pressed himself further into the corner. Sir wouldn't want him talking to them.
One of them turned away from Shawn, watching their teammate's back while the other kneeled in front of him. "Are you injured?"
Shawn shook his head.
"Okay," he said. "The paramedics are still going to want to give you a quick checkup when we finish clearing the building. Is that alright?"
Shawn nodded.
A voice came from the SWAT man's walkie. "Building's clear."
The other two people in the room relaxed and lowered their guns. A team of paramedics rushed into the room, and suddenly it became way too crowded. They shined lights in his eyes and asked him questions. He tried to answer them as best as he could, hoping Sir wouldn't find out he was talking to anyone but him.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Shawn."
"Hello, Shawn. Do you think you can walk?"
He nodded.
"Shawn? Shawn!" Someone yelled from outside the room. Juliet poked her head through the door, and they locked eyes. She beamed, forgetting everyone else as she ran to him.
She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. He smelled the same fragrance she wore the last time he saw her five days ago. He rested his forehead on her shoulder.
He heard a jingling sound and felt gentle hands on his wrists. He tried to sit up.
“It's okay,” Jules said. She softly pulled him towards her again. “It's just me. I've got the keys for the handcuffs.”
He relaxed again, letting her move his hands any way she needed to. After two clicks, the painful pressure on his wrists faded. He wrapped his arms firmly around her waist.
The paramedics began murmuring at the sight of his hands. They stole one from Juliet’s waist to take a closer look. Juliet noticed the movement and leaned back, actually seeing Shawn’s wrists and taking the other one in her hands. “How long did he make you wear those?” She asked him, gesturing to the handcuffs behind him.
He looked at the hand she was holding. His wrist was mottled with patches of deep purple and green. “Five days,” he mumbled.
Juliet looked stricken.
One of the paramedics disappeared behind Shawn. He heard the sound of fabric tearing. Juliet placed a hand on his cheek before he could turn around. “It's okay,” she assured him. “They're here to help.”
After one last rip, Shawn winced as cold air hit his back, and the paramedic behind him cursed.
Juliet came to attention at the sound. “What is it?”
The paramedics ignored her question, so she turned to him. “Shawn, what's wrong with your back? What did he do to you?”
Shawn stared at the wall while one of the paramedics shooed Juliet away and knelt in her place. “We're going to take you to the ambulance now. Are you sure you can walk?”
He looked up at Juliet, standing behind the paramedics with a single tear falling down her cheek. “I'm sure,” he said, for her more than anyone else.
One of them helped him stand, and as soon as he got his feet underneath him, Juliet stepped around them to get a look at his back. She cursed in a similar fashion to the paramedic who ripped his shirt. “Shawn…”
The paramedics led him to the door of his room before he could respond to her, taking him out into the unfamiliar hallway.
He heard people talking, their voices growing louder the farther he went down the hall. He stepped into the living room, where Lassiter and a half dozen officers stood around, staring at something in the center of the floor and taking notes. An officer looked up when Shawn entered, and soon, all eyes were on him and the paramedics. He stopped walking when he saw what they had all been staring at.
Lassiter came forward, placing himself between Shawn and the object on the floor. He might have said something, too. Shawn wasn't sure, because Lassiter had been too late.
They'd all been staring at Sir's body.
Even with a short glimpse, Sir was unmistakably dead. He had a bullet hole in his chest, and his eyes, though still open, were glossed over. His knife lay a couple of feet from where a coroner was zipping up the body bag.
Shawn lingered there for a moment. Lassiter said something to him, but Shawn only saw his gun go back into the holster at his side.
Lassiter killed Sir.
Juliet appeared in front of the head detective. “Don't worry about him,” she said, and Shawn couldn't decide whether she was talking about Sir or Lassiter. She took his hand. “Let's go outside.”
He followed her to the front door, flanked by paramedics. He heard his father before he saw him, shouting at someone just outside the house. Shawn stepped through the front door onto a porch, and Henry's gaze met his. Whatever one-sided argument he had been having fell silent as he stared at his son.
Feeling shame under his father's scrutiny, Shawn brought his eyes back to Juliet, who led him off the porch and into the yard. As soon as they left the roof's shadow, sunlight assaulted his eyes, and he squinted, no longer able to see Juliet, or the ground beneath his feet, for that matter. He stumbled along in her wake.
There were more hands on him, now. Too many to just be Juliet’s. Hands on his shoulders, his arms, his back. He wished he could see what was happening, but his eyes had yet to adjust to the daylight outside.
Then they pushed him down onto something soft. He opened his eyes for a second, and everything was a different shade of too bright. He pinched them shut again.
He heard Juliet's voice next to him, and then a high-pitched shrieking that drowned her voice out. Something pricked his arm, and he tried his eyes again, but it was too much and he gave up trying to see.
Through his eyelids, he saw the piercing light above him darken slightly. For one last attempt, he opened his eyes the slightest amount.
It was still bright, but manageable. Something was blocking the light from directly reaching his eyes, like a solar eclipse just for his face. He focused, and realized he was in an ambulance. The high-pitched shrieking must be the siren. He looked to his left and found an IV in his arm.
“Shawn?” He heard, barely audible over the siren.
He looked back up and realized it was a hand that blocked the light for him. He followed the arm it was attached to and saw Juliet’s smiling face.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Is this helping?”
He relaxed at the sight of her, laying his head down on the pillow and nodding.
He couldn't remember the rest of the ride. When he woke up again, he was in a hospital bed, surrounded by loud beeping machines and empty chairs. The IV was still in his arm, so he couldn't have been out for too long.
A tray of food hovered over his lap. He glanced around for someone who could permit him to eat, but he was alone.
He waited.
Voices traveled up the hall. As they got closer, he recognized Juliet and Gus. They entered his room and saw him lying awake on the bed. “Shawn!” They cheered in nearly perfect unison.
Shawn smiled at them. “Where were you guys?” He asked.
“We grabbed lunch in the cafeteria,” Gus said. “Your dad said he'd be back up here in a few minutes.”
Juliet took his hand, and he saw he was wearing a wrist brace. He lifted his other arm and found one there, too.
“The bruising was pretty bad,” Juliet explained. “The doctor wants you to keep your wrists as straight as possible for a couple weeks while they heal.”
With that, the doctor walked into Shawn’s room. “That's right,” she said. “You can take them off to shower and wash your hands. Once the bruises heal completely, you can switch to wearing them only at night, and a week after that, you won't have to fool with them anymore at all.”
She set her clipboard down on the table next to Shawn’s bed. He stared at it warily while she checked one of the monitors.
“A few of those cuts on your back were pretty serious. We gave you seventeen stitches.” She picked up the clipboard and scribbled something on it. The heart monitor started beeping slightly faster. “You're nearly good to go now. Once we get your sugar up a bit more, I have no problems with letting you leave today.”
She gestured to the tray of food. “Cynthia brought this by about five minutes ago. It should still be warm.”
Shawn took this as an invitation to eat and dug in. The doctor stepped out to give him and his guests some space, and Gus and Juliet found chairs next to Shawn’s bed.
More footsteps came from outside, and Henry stepped in. “You're awake,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
Shawn swallowed his mouthful of food. “Sore,” he answered. “The doctor said I can go home today.”
His dad sat down, sighing as he did so. “Is that really all you can think about after all this?”
Shawn put his fork down.
“Kid, you… you were missing for five days. Do you realize how serious that is?” Henry asked. “You've got to stop being so reckless, Shawn.”
Shawn looked at Gus and Juliet. They looked immensely uncomfortable, but they weren't disagreeing.
“If you were a detective,” Henry said. “Even if you were a cop, you'd have had backup. You've got so much potential, and you waste it dangling your life in criminals’ faces.”
“Oh, come on, I don't–”
“Oh, you don't, Shawn?” Henry raised his voice. Shawn fell silent. “Why are you here, then? Why are you in the hospital? You can't look me in the eye and say you did nothing to bring this on yourself.”
Shawn stared at the blanket on his lap.
“You worried everyone, kid. You worried Gus and Juliet. You worried…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. “I'm just sick of getting phone calls from people telling me they don't know where you are.”
He watched his son, still staring at the blanket. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, sir,” Shawn answered without thinking. He grimaced as the words left his mouth.
Henry furrowed his brows, standing up. “Fine,” he said. “Be as sarcastic as you want. But the next time it lands you in trouble, get your own medical insurance, and take me off your call list.”
He stormed towards the door. Juliet stood up to try and stop him. “Henry, you don't mean that,” she said.
“Juliet, with all due respect, I've known him a bit longer than you have,” Henry said. “Don't let him come crawling to you with his medical bills either.” He slipped past her and into the hallway.
Juliet turned around. “Shawn, he didn't mean–”
“Jules, it's fine,” Shawn said. “I'm… I'm really tired.”
Juliet looked at the food he barely touched. “Okay,” she said. “I'll be in the waiting room if you need me.” She leaned down and gave him a quick peck on his temple before heading to the door. “Gus, are you coming?”
“I'll be there in a minute,” he said.
Juliet nodded, glancing at Shawn before turning and stepping into the hallway.
Gus stepped up to Shawn’s bed. “He shouldn't have said that to you,” he said.
Shawn bunched up his blanket in his fists. “It's fine, Gus.”
Gus sighed, but backed off. “Let us know if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
Gus looked at him for a minute. Shawn couldn't see it exactly, staring at his lap, but he felt Gus's eyes on him until the sound of footsteps left his room.
Shawn sighed and leaned back onto his pillow. He shut his eyes, knowing he wouldn't get any sleep but willing to try anyway.
Once again, he imagined he was anywhere but here .